


A Trail Of Sparks

by Verasteine



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, M/M, Prostitution, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-30
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2018-02-21 22:45:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2484989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verasteine/pseuds/Verasteine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. After Steve is invalided out of the Navy, he ends up stripping at Mamo's gay club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the ' _beer on the pier_ ' square on my [](http://h50bingo.livejournal.com/profile)[**h50bingo**](http://h50bingo.livejournal.com/) card. This fic came about because [](http://theellibu.livejournal.com/profile)[**theellibu**](http://theellibu.livejournal.com/) said something about Alex O'Loughlin's package in [](http://finduilas-clln.livejournal.com/profile)[**finduilas_clln**](http://finduilas-clln.livejournal.com/) 's journal, and then this idea wouldn't leave me alone. They kindly agreed to cheerlead this thing, which is good because it wouldn't have been written without their support, and the support of [](http://eumelia.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://eumelia.livejournal.com/)**eumelia** , who also betaed the monster. So basically, I blame them. Completely. For the whole thing.  
> I've been made aware that this story is not representing VA support for veterans accurately. My apologies for the misrepresentation.

\--  
 _From the window of a car_  
A cigarette's a falling star  
A dream within a trail of sparks  
\--

He's cleaning the makeup off his shoulder when there's a knock on the dressing room door. "Yo," he calls out, grabbing the dirty tissues off the counter and dumping them in the trash bin before looking up.

Mamo stands in the doorway, two men behind him. "You got a minute, Steve?"

"Sure." He reaches for a t-shirt as Mamo lets the two guys in. One Native Hawaiian, the other haole, wearing a tie and looking out of place, both of them with guns and badges on their belts. Cops. He glances at Mamo. "What's going on?"

The blond takes the lead. "Were you working here last night?"

Steve looks up at him, takes in slicked back blond hair, strong shoulders, and a belligerent tone he doesn't care for. "I might have been. Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Look, we're not interested in what you do here, okay, this isn't about that." The blond's words are accompanied by a swipe of his hand, dismissing the decor of the sparse dressing room.

Steve leans back in his seat. "It had better not be, because last time I checked, stripping wasn't illegal in Oahu."

The Native cop clears his throat, and his partner glances at him. "What?" he snaps.

"Let's start again," the guy says smoothly, smiling. "I'm Detective Hanamoa, the loudmouth here is Detective Williams. We're asking questions at all the establishments here on the pier, a body was found early this morning."

Steve exchanges another glance with Mamo. "What kind of a body?" he asks carefully.

"A young woman," Williams says, his tone suggesting he doesn't like this fact. "We think she may have been... a self employed professional."

"A hooker?" Steve says.

"Yeah, if you must." Another dismissive wave of his hand, and his face expresses distaste. For what, Steve can't tell. "Now, were you working here last night or not?"

It had been an average night, making him less than he'd been hoping for. "Yes, I was."

"You see anything out of the ordinary?"

"No." He finally unfolds the t-shirt he's still holding and slips it over his head. "It was an ordinary night. Kind of quiet."

Williams licks his lips and digs a photo out of his pocket. "You ever see this girl before?"

She's young and blonde, her eyes unseeing, a pool of blood spread out on the pavement under her head. Steve doesn't blink; he's seen worse. "No."

"She wasn't in here last night?" Hanamoa interjects.

Steve thinks for a moment. "Not that I can recall. But I don't look at every customer, Detective." They all blur together after a while, and the ones that stand out are the ones that tip well. This girl doesn't look like she'd have the money to be a good tipper.

"Where did you park your car?" Williams asks.

"By the docks. Cars aren't allowed on the pier."

"You see anything unusual when you were going home?"

His continually belligerent tone makes Steve want to dodge the question, but it would be petty. "No, Detective." He drags his eyes up to the guy's face. "Nothing unusual."

Blue eyes stare back into his as if accepting a challenge. "Did you go home alone?"

Steve stands without thinking. "Excuse me?"

"Danny." Hanamoa puts a hand on Williams' arm. "It's just a question, sir."

"No, it isn't," Steve shoots back. "Your partner over here was implying something I don't like the tone of."

Williams holds up his hands. "Okay, I'm sorry, I apologise."

"You better." He doesn't sit back down. "And for your information, yes, I was alone."

"What time was this?" Hanamoa asks.

Steve glances at Mamo, who shrugs. "I don't know, I did my last set at eleven, so sometime near midnight, I guess."

"Okay. Thank you for your time, sir. Just for our records, can we have your full name, please?"

"Steve McGarrett." He grabs his wallet, fishes out his driver's license and holds it out to them. "Anything else?"

"Yeah," Williams says, eyeing Steve's wallet instead of his ID. "Where'd you get that cash?"

Three hundred dollars sit tightly packed together in Steve's billfold, and he folds it shut again and pockets it. "None of your damn business."

"I'm a cop," Williams says, and the challenging stare is back. "It _is_ my business."

Steve raises his chin as he glares back. "I worked a private party this afternoon. I got paid. This is a cash industry."

"You may want to deposit that in a bank account," Williams says, lips quirking into a smile. Steve hates the guy already, sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. "Have a good day."

Steve glares at him until the door closes behind them.

\--

Mamo's closes between the afternoon and evening shift, so Steve sits at the bar, watching Mamo polish glasses and set out bottles of alcohol. "So, a murder, huh?"

Mamo glances up. "Yeah."

Steve takes a sip of his orange juice. "There's not a lot of hookers out here, are there?"

Mamo shakes his head. "Not a lot, but there's always some."

He nods, running a finger over the rim of his glass. "How was last night's take?"

"It'll cover the costs."

"Not as good, huh? Already thought so." He tries not to think about the state of his bank account. "Better luck tonight."

"Better luck next week, after payday." Mamo gives him a smile. "Don't worry about it."

Mamo's attempt at reassurance makes Steve smile as well. "Yeah." He sips his juice. "I'll give them a good show tonight, that should bring in the money."

"Are you up for it? You already did yesterday and this afternoon."

His shoulder aches where the bullet wound never fully healed, but he needs the work, so there's nothing for it. "I'll get through it."

"Stevie." Mamo puts a hand on his arm. "Don't push yourself."

Steve runs a hand through his hair and laughs dryly. "I need the money, Mamo."

Mamo squeezes his arm briefly before taking his hand away. "Okay. I just hate to see you hurting yourself."

"Yeah." He finishes his juice. "I'm gonna lie down for a bit. Will you call me for dinner?"

"Sure."

\--

Kai comes into the dressing room after his first set, looking exhausted. Steve raises an eyebrow at him.

"Full house out there tonight, brah," Kai says, grabbing a towel and his boxers. "The USS Lincoln docked this morning."

So close to the port and the military bases, sailors, closeted or otherwise, make up a large portion of their business. Steve shrugs. "Whatever brings in the cash."

"You hard up?"

"Rent's coming up." Steve reaches for the makeup that'll cover his scars. "You know how it is."

"I do, man. It's been a rough couple of weeks. Have a good run." Kai slips into the small shower room at the back.

Steve gives him a wave as the door closes and focuses back on the task at hand. The bullet scar is faded, but it won't do to show the customers the merchandise is damaged. The process complete, he puts his performance clothes on and gets ready.

\--

Kai wasn't kidding; it's a full house and then standing room at the back as Steve comes on stage. The crowd eyes him, a few regulars are already letting out cat calls, and this part never gets old. Steve lets the music wash over him and dictate his moves, lets it pull in the crowd and makes them cluster around the stage.

By the time he's shirtless and on his knees at the end of the first song, there's plenty of hands with cash reaching for his waistband, and he's happy to lean in closer for the back row to be able to get to him. He tries to give each of them a smile or a wink or a moment of their own, paying them back in kind.

During the second song he evades some grabbing hands and leans into others, sees Chin, their bouncer, nearby and knows that he's covered if something does go wrong. Mostly, it's a good crowd, lots of money, respectful, happy on a night out and Steve can lose himself in this, lose himself in the spotlight and the shouts and the way all eyes are on him.

His shoulder starts aching midway through the third song and he has to force himself to keep his smile from slipping. He can push through this, can use his Navy training to help, even if it was never meant for this. Sweat starts blurring his vision and he gets through the final act on sheer willpower, gives the crowd the biggest grin before slipping backstage.

\--

The first thing he does is take two pain pills, the ache turning into a red hot poker in his shoulder, and he towels dry and dresses automatically, before simply curling up on the cot they keep in the corner of the dressing room.

When Cindy, the waitress, knocks on the door a few minutes later, he's waiting for the painkillers to kick in. "Oh, Steve," she sighs, handing over a wad of bills that had made it onto the stage after his exit.

He tucks the money away, knows he can trust her to be honest with it, and pastes a smile on his face. "I'll be okay."

"Yeah. Can I bring you anything?"

"No, I'm good. I'll rest up till my second set."

She frowns. "You sure you can handle it?"

"Can't leave the customers wanting," he replies.

She shakes her head. "You're crazy sometimes."

Steve waves her off and shifts futilely in an effort to find a position that puts less pressure on his shoulder.

\--

Mamo stops by just before his second set.

"I told Cindy I could do it."

"I know, she told me." Mamo takes a seat at the vanity, watches Steve get dressed. "Doesn't mean I'm not concerned."

He stops himself from shrugging. "I'll work out my shift, go see my physio tomorrow. I'll be fine."

"You're on on Friday, you still up for that?"

He glances at Mamo. Part of him wants to say no; he's worked too much already this week, but weekends are the best shifts and his rent is still due Monday. And he's short. "I'll be there."

"Stevie--"

He points a finger at Mamo. "I make my own choices, okay?"

Mamo looks at him long and hard, but nods. "All right."

Steve shrugs off his bitterness and nods back. "Thanks, Mamo."

"No problem. You're on."

"You got it."

\--

The painkillers aren't enough, they're never enough, and by the time he's done, he wants to go home and sleep until it's afternoon, but it's a busy night and even if he's lucky Friday, there's not enough money to pay rent and physical therapy bills.

He sits at the bar, and Mamo meets his eyes briefly, slides away to serve the next customer, and well, this is a discussion they had only once, anyway.

It doesn't take long before someone sits down next to him. "Buy you a drink?"

Steve flashes a smile. "Sure, if you make mine an orange juice."

He's not stupid enough to drink, wants to keep his wits about him. The guy signals Mamo, who puts the beer bottle and OJ on the counter with practiced ease, and the customer's money disappears with equal speed.

"What's your name?" Steve says.

"Does it matter?"

 _Navy_ , Steve thinks automatically. "Not to me. Enjoy the show?"

The guy drains half his bottle. "Hard not to."

Steve smiles. "Means I'm doing my job right, thanks."

He gets a glance up and down at that. "You do anything more?"

"I can," Steve says slowly, "be persuaded."

That gets him a calculating look. "How much?"

"Fifty. Up front."

The guy swallows hard, but he nods, digging into a pocket. Steve takes the note from him and tucks it away. He slips off the barstool and leads the guy to the back, unlocks the backroom and lets him step inside first. He keeps a smile on his face as he pulls out the condom packet, but the response is familiar.

"Aw, man, do I have to?"

"Not happening without," Steve says easily, leaning in the doorway. "You can have your money back and no hard feelings."

He waits until the guy decides, and when he nods, Steve closes the door and turns the key, leaving it in the lock. He smiles, licks his lips, watches the guy sag a little against the wall. Steve steps in close, crowding him against the wall, sliding one hand down to the guy's crotch while leaving the other against the wall next to his head.

He's half hard under Steve's touch, and he rubs his thumb over denim, feels the guy buck into it. "Yeah? You like this?" He makes a soft sound, and Steve noses at his cheek, presses a soft kiss over stubble. "It's okay," he adds, "let me hear it."

The guy turns his head, presses his mouth against Steve's with a groan, and Steve kisses him back softly before pulling back, wandering down to his neck. He's growing hard under Steve's hand, and he unzips him as he nuzzles his pecs, sliding down onto his knees.

He can rest his right shoulder for a bit in this position, uses his left hand to free the guy's erection from his boxers, and rips open the condom packet with his teeth. He slides it on using his mouth, and that trick never fails to get him a noise and a thrust of the hips, and he presses the guy back against the wall with his left arm.

He slants his eyes up at that moment, meets the guy's gaze, his open mouth, fast breath, wide eyes. Steve smiles around his dick and holds those eyes while sliding back down. He hits the back of Steve's throat and he fights his gag reflex.

He needs to keep the guy pressed firmly against the wall as he sets a rhythm, fast and strong, no need to linger. It takes only a few minutes before he twitches on Steve's tongue, and Steve takes him in deep, lets him thrust one last time as he comes.

He blinks away the water in his eyes from nearly getting choked before getting to his feet, helps him dispose of the condom and tucks him back into his pants. He kisses his cheek. Still breathing hard, the guy pushes off from the wall and follows Steve meekly back to the corridor and into the main part of the club. It's quieter now, close to closing time, and Steve gives him one last smile. "Have a good night."

"Uh, you too." He disappears into the crowd, and Steve returns to the dressing room to rinse the taste of latex from his mouth.

\--

The deserted streets make the drive home easy, the only cars he meets a few cabs and police cruisers. When he pulls up at his bare, two room apartment, it's past one in the morning, and the nine flights of stairs are demoralising.

It is what it is. He takes them at a light jog, reminds himself it's a good workout, and is pleased when he's still breathing evenly as he gets to his landing. He unlocks the deadbolts and the Yale lock and automatically relocks them behind himself.

He's tired, tired enough to want to roll straight into bed, but he knows he'll regret it in the morning. He forces himself to keep moving, takes some pain pills, hits the shower and stands under the hot spray for fifteen minutes until he's woozy and his shoulder feels like it's throbbing instead of burning.

He stretches the kinks out of it, slowly and painfully, until he's sure he won't wake up with it completely seized up, and then finally crawls into bed, the clock nearer to two am than one.

\--

The first thing he does in the morning is call up for a physio appointment. Once that's arranged, he can breathe more easily, work his way through a morning routine of exercises that end with a five mile run. His shoulder aches dully as he showers and dresses, and he knows it'll be a constant reminder to carry him through the day. That's not so bad; he can cope with that.

He runs a load of laundry, unpacks the dishwasher, takes a look at his finances and shudders. If the Friday shift goes well, it should cover the rent check due Monday, but it's not going to stretch to a Waikiki physical therapy bill, not by a long shot. Steve runs a hand through his hair, watches the numbers blur together as he stares at them long and hard.

Next week's payday, which means those shifts should earn him that little bit more that will cover this visit, and if he puts it on his credit card, he'll have a few weeks to find the money.

It'll have to do.

\--

Greg has been his physical therapist since Steve started earning at enough at Mamo's to cover the bill. Before then, he was stuck with a VA therapist who treated him like a number and kept having to consult his medical history to figure out what to do. The bill stings every time it arrives, but Greg keeps his shoulder in reasonable working order and it's worth every dime.

"You're lucky I could fit you in," Greg says easily as Steve walks in. "You wrench something?"

Steve sits down on the table. "I don't know. Overdid it, I guess."

"That's a frequent problem for you." There's no judgment there, and Steve takes it in stride. Greg's fingers probe carefully, tug this way and that, manipulate the joint until Steve hisses. "Right there? Okay. Lie down for me."

Steve strips his shirt off and stretches out, trying to relax in spite of the pain. Experience has taught him that the more it hurts, the better the results are, but it doesn't make it easy.

Greg taps his arm. "Relax, brah. You're not helping yourself."

He consciously unclenches his fists. "Sorry."

"No sweat. You do this on the job?"

"Last night." Steve blows out a slow breath. "And don't tell me it needs rest."

"It does need rest." Greg works the kinks out of stubborn knot near his shoulder blade. "But I'm going to assume that's not an option."

"Not if I want a roof over my head." He grits his teeth when Greg digs his fingers in. "Fuck."

Greg pauses. "Too much?"

"I can take it."

"The damage is irreversible, Steve. I can fix the muscles and tendons that have to take over, but you know your shoulder will never heal."

He tries not to bristle. "Not news to me, Greg."

"I know. But try not to make it worse, because wrench this another time and you'll be out of commission for a long time."

The stern warning echoes in his head on his way out the door, back into the mid morning sunshine, and he's distracted enough to miss his name being called until someone grabs his arm.

"Steve!" Kono's out of breath from running to catch up with him, but she gives him a wide smile. "Hey, brah, howzit."

"Hey." Steve returns her quick embrace. They met in the waiting room months ago, and their shared love of surfing meant they hit the waves together frequently. "Were you coming or going?"

"Going," she replies. "You?"

"Same. You got time to catch a few waves?"

"Sure! If you're up for it."

He rolls his shoulder, thinks that after this morning's treatment, a little relaxation and light exercise might be perfect. "I'm good. Just need to swing by my place to pick my board."

"You got it."

\--

They drive north to one of the quieter beaches, where there's less tourism and as Kono puts it, better waves. Before too long, it's the two of them, the wind, the waves, and nothing else. It takes a few times before Steve has a good run, and Kono leaves him behind, as always, laughing as she does it.

"Not bad, brah," she says when they stop for a break, laughing at him in a way that means she's totally condescending.

Steve elbows her in the ribs, but she evades him, digs two fingers into his side and he twists out of the way. "We weren't all born on a stick."

She pushes her wet hair out of her face. "Comes with the territory." Steve stretches out in the sand, decides to work on his tan a bit. Kono falls down next to him. "Chin says the cops were down at the pier yesterday. Something about a murder?"

Steve cracks open one eye, remembering the stubborn blond with his belligerent questions. "Yeah. Assholes."

Kono shifts in place. "Sorry, brah."

"You're not a cop yet."

"No, but--" She makes a gesture. "They toss the place?"

Steve shakes his head, opens both eyes and sits up. "They should have tried. Just a lot of stupid questions."

Kono glances sideways. "It was a girl who got killed, right?"

"A hooker, yeah." Steve stares out over the waves. "They showed me a picture. She was young, Kono."

She nods. Steve stretches out again, lets the sun dry his skin. He closes his eyes against the bright rays, listens to the sounds of the surf.

\--

He wakes when Kono pokes him in the side, and the sun is in a different position. "Better put some sunscreen on, Steve, or I'd've let you sleep. You looked like you needed it."

He rubs a hand over his face. "Thanks." He accepts the bottle from her and reapplies, giving her a quick smile. "Mamo wouldn't be happy if I showed up red and blistered."

She throws her head back and laughs. "I imagine not. You up for another couple of waves?"

The sun and sea are calling, so Steve nods, follows her back into the ocean to lose her on the first wave, going under as she stays standing easily.

\--

Friday morning dawns to a grey sky that threatens a storm, so Steve turns over again and catches some more sleep before finally dragging himself out of bed nearer lunchtime. He braves the threatening skies and goes for his customary run, catching the beginning of a spectacular downpour and coming home drenched.

The shower washes it all away, and he does his shoulder exercises, the stretches burning a lot less than they had the day before. The sun is peeking out from behind the clouds when he drives to the pier, and the water is glittering when he walks its length to Mamo's.

Chin's already inside when Steve lets himself in. "Hey, brah."

"Hey."

"Looks like the weather is letting up in time for people to come enjoy themselves."

"It better." Steve smiles. "Kono says hi, by the way."

"You two out surfing?"

"Yep." He sketches a wave as he makes his way to the back, dropping his bag in the dressing room. Mamo is in his little office at the far end of the hall, so Steve knocks on the door before stepping inside. "Hey."

"Stevie!" Mamo slides his chair back and gestures for Steve to sit down as well. "Coffee?"

"Please." Steve takes the mug with a smile and sits. "How are things?"

"Holding their own, holding their own."

"Yeah?" Steve takes a sip of coffee, watches Mamo's face carefully.

"Would I lie to you? It's not great, not what it used to be, but we're keeping our head above water."

Steve nods. "Okay."

"You're helping, you know, bringing in the customers." Mamo grins. "They can't resist you."

Steve feels colour spread on his cheeks, when he's not normally shy about this job. "Thanks, Mamo."

He laughs and punches Steve's arm, and Steve grins back, drinking his coffee.

"Any trouble with the cops?"

Mamo shakes his head. "Haven't seen them since the last time."

"Good. I'm going to go get ready. Thanks for the kona, brah."

\--

He's midway through his first set when he spots him, sitting at a corner table in the back, not close to the stage like most customers. It's the slicked back blond hair that gives him away, making Steve blink even as he doesn't miss a step.

The guy's eyes are fixed on Steve, watching him, a beer bottle untouched at his hand. Steve forces himself to look away from that gaze, to pay attention to the customers who are holding out cash and buying themselves some attention, but every time he looks up, Williams is still there.

When he comes off the stage he rushes himself through a shower, gets dressed and heads back into the club. Mamo catches his eyes from behind the crowd waiting at the bar, and Steve jerks his head in Williams' direction before heading over there.

"Detective," he says, sliding into the booth, "back with more questions?"

The blue eyes blink at him, startled, and the beer bottle on the table is now half empty. "No." Williams shifts in his seat. "Just checking out the show."

"Really?" Steve raises an eyebrow. "You don't seem the type."

"How do you know what type I am?" Williams shoots back.

Steve doesn't trust the guy as far as he can throw him. "You gave me a pretty good idea of it Wednesday."

"I-- I what?" Williams sputters. "We had one conversation, a conversation that you seemed to take the wrong way, my friend, and that's it, all right. I was doing my job."

"Are you doing your job now?"

Williams leans back. "Anyone ever tell you you have a suspicious mind?"

Steve grins. "Lots of people. Now answer the question."

"I already did. I'm not here professionally."

Steve narrows his eyes. "If this is some kind of harassment or shakedown, I've got news for you: it's not going to happen, okay?"

Williams' eyes flash, and he sits up straighter. "You got any trouble with cops around here?"

Steve blinks, shakes it off. "Not yet."

"Very funny."

Steve gives him a look. "I'm telling you that if you don't back off, you're gonna find out exactly how much we don't like you people around here."

"Us people?" Williams raises both eyebrows, looks torn between amusement and anger. He waves a hand at Steve's face. "Us people? What does that mean? Cops?"

"Straight guys who want to pick a fight." Steve leans in closer. "We're not an easy target and we're not gonna run scared."

"Whoa, whoa, you think-- No, my friend." Williams shakes his head. "That's real cute and I get where you're coming from, but no. I'm here as a paying customer, and I'm about to start wondering where I can complain to management about their performers."

"Fuck off," Steve shoots back.

"You're a lot more attractive when you're up on that stage." Williams smiles. "Look, I'll leave if you ask me to, but if you're this way with everyone who comes to see you I'm amazed you still have a job."

"I'm only this way with people I don't trust."

"Yeah." Williams sighs and drains his beer bottle. "So, it was nice seeing you again and all, but I think I'll take your hostility and make my way out the door. Maybe next time I see you, you'll have gotten out of bed on the right side."

He digs out a wallet and leaves a bill on the table, slips out of the booth and makes his way through the crowd. Steve watches him go, wondering how much trouble this guy's going to be.

\--

"That cop giving you a hard time?" Mamo asks as Steve is finished with his last number and taking the makeup off his shoulder.

Steve shrugs. "I don't know, Mamo. He says he wasn't, but I don't trust him."

"I'll tell Chin to keep an eye out, yeah?"

"Sure." Steve rubs some life back into his shoulder, stretches it carefully. He catches Mamo's eyes in the mirror. "If you're going to ask me to cover a weekend shift, I'm going to have to turn you down."

"Don't worry about it, brah." Mamo's hand lands on his good shoulder. "Not a problem."

He nods, shoves down the anger he feels ruthlessly, and plasters a smile on his face. "See you Tuesday, then."

"Have a good weekend, Stevie."

\--

He spends the weekend relaxing, going for a swim to exercise his shoulder and to feel water around him again. It's second nature, easy like breathing, and when the next week dawns and he scrapes together the money for his rent, he feels less bitter about it all. There are times in life to worry about the credit card bill, and times when you just have to let it go.

When he goes into work, Chin stops him at the door. "That cop was in here, brah. He was looking for you."

"Oh, great." He's either picking himself up a stalker or they've got bigger trouble than that. "He give you a hard time?"

"Nah, just sat in the corner, drank a beer. Cindy says he asked after you, and when she told him you weren't working, he left."

Steve sighs. "Okay, thanks, man."

Chin claps him on the shoulder. "I've got your back, yeah?"

"I know, I appreciate it." He heads inside, drops off his bag and heads to Mamo's office, where he helps himself to a cup of coffee while Mamo is on the phone with a supplier.

"Chin filled me in," Steve says when Mamo puts the horn down.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," Mamo says, leaning back. "You've had fans before, nothing unusual there."

Steve smiles wryly. "They weren't cops."

"True." Mamo looks at him for a moment. "Do you want me to bar him?"

Steve runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. "I can handle it. We can't throw out every guy I don't like the look of."

"You don't get nervous quickly, but no."

Steve bites his lip. "You calling me paranoid?"

Mamo puts a hand on his arm. "Steve, if this guy sets off your radar, I'm not going to argue with you."

"Thanks, I appreciate that." He leans back, rubs a hand over his face.

"Everything okay, Steve?"

He sighs. "Yeah, it's good, Mamo. Nothing I can't handle, okay?"

Mamo smiles. "You need to get out more."

"If that's a subtle way of telling me to get laid--"

Mamo holds up a hand, dirty grin on his face. "Of course not."

"Ass." But as he walks back to the dressing room, he has a smile on his face.

\--

Williams is sitting in the same corner booth as before, and Steve studiously ignores him as he performs. But it needles him, and he can't help having just that much bigger a smile for the people close to the stage, feels Williams' gaze on him the whole time.

It's like the guy doesn't look away, doesn't blink, he just sits there and watches. They have their share of slightly less savoury characters that choose booths to jerk off under the table, and fine, Steve doesn't care what gets people's rocks off, but this is different.

He has no time to turn it over in his head; a group of slightly drunk young women are tipping good money and he makes sure to give them good value for it. Their screams carry over the loud music and he can feel hands on his skin, on his ass, and he's fine with it; it's part of the deal as long as no one makes a grab for anything.

In between two songs, one of the women leans in. "My friend's getting married," she says, pointing to one of the other girls, who giggles and blushes.

"Oh yeah?" Steve says with an easy grin, turning to her. "Go you. Last night of freedom?"

She giggles again. "Something like that."

He leans over the stage and kisses her cheek. "Congratulations. He's a lucky guy."

There's lots of blushes and giggles as he gets back on his feet for the second track, and more screams as he blows her a kiss. When he looks up, Danny Williams is suddenly gone.

\--

He's back like clockwork on Friday night, strolls in just after Steve's first set, takes a seat in the same corner booth. Steve feels those eyes on him the entire way through his second set. Williams stays there, fends off a pass by another customer, and nurses his single bottle of beer.

Steve watches him from the corridor, finally has had enough, and walks over, sliding into the booth. "Hi."

Williams gives him an overly bright grin. "Hey, it's you again."

"Yep, me again. What the fuck are you doing here?"

Williams looks around the club. "Does this place have a rule against paying customers or something? Or is it just you? Because no one else seems to mind me being here."

"No one else," Steve says slowly, "seems to be getting your attention the way I do."

Williams gestures at him, muscles moving under his button down shirt. "Okay, I sort of get the paranoia, I mean, your line of work is not-- but you've got to be used to people looking at you, right?"

"My line of work is what?" Steve demands.

Williams rolls his eyes. "That's what he focuses on. I was going to say," he says slowly, clear blue gaze meeting Steve's, "it's not conducive to a sense of personal safety, but I thought you might be insulted."

Steve bristles at that. "Fuck you."

"Try another line."

"People tell me you only show up the nights I'm working. Excuse me if that makes me paranoid."

Williams leans back. "I like you."

"No," Steve corrects, "you like what I do."

Williams thinks this over. "Yeah, okay, I like watching you take your clothes off. You look good naked. You must have heard that before."

Yes, Steve's heard it before. He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, but--"

"Look," Williams says at the same time, "I get this makes me a bit pathetic, okay? So go ahead and judge me for it, I'll be over here in the corner."

Steve shakes his head, not sure what to say to that.

"I could spin a whole yarn about desiring the unattainable and the taboo factor of naked bodies, but it's nothing you don't know already, and it's not the whole truth, in any case."

"Now you lost me."

"Funny, you didn't strike me as stupid." Williams empties his bottle. "I've got to go. It was nice talking to you."

Before Steve realises what's happened, there's a twenty dollar bill on the table and Williams has left.

\--

He's there again the next week. Sitting in the corner, nursing one bottle of beer, watching Steve's second set with the sort of attention Steve tends to reserve for shooting a gun. He's unavoidable, his blond hair and blue eyes and the tie he never seems to go without. Steve catches him just as he's getting up to leave.

"What's with you?"

Williams looks him up and down. "I could ask you the same question."

"I work here," Steve replies.

It gets him a quirky smile. "Yes, you do. And fine work it is, too. Now if you'll excuse me, I was just leaving. It's that thing you're so fond of me doing."

Steve ignores that. "You sit here, have one beer, then what? Go home to your doting wife?"

"A lesser man," Williams says slowly, "might be offended that you think so little of me. I, on the other hand, am going to magnanimously overlook that insult, and insist on leaving."

Steve steps aside. "Fine, go. I'm sure the show got you hard enough to fuck her tonight."

Williams turns to him with a growl, and Steve's ready for him, has been waiting for this since they met, wants to take this guy down a notch, badly. He's bracing himself, nearly lashes out when someone pulls him back, stepping in front of him. Chin clears his throat, facing Williams. "I think you were leaving?"

Williams stands there a second longer, his eyes on Steve, and Steve is meeting that gaze head on. "I was," Williams says at long last, and steps back, turns around and heads for the exit.

Chin turns to Steve. "What the hell, brah?" Steve doesn't answer him, heads towards the back, Chin on his heels. "I was talking to you! What the fuck just happened?"

"He got on my nerves, okay?" Steve slams the palm of his right hand flat into the wall, feels it jar all the way up his shoulder. The pain feels good. "He sits there and he stares and he doesn't _do_ anything. The guy's an asshole, Chin, come on."

"That doesn't mean you can provoke him." Chin looks at him, searching. "You okay, Steve?"

He answers through gritted teeth. "I'm fine."

The door opens and Mamo comes in. Chin catches it before it swings shut and slips back out into the club. Steve meets Mamo's eyes. "Sorry."

Mamo only looks at him. "What's going on, Stevie?"

He shakes his head. "That guy just pisses me off."

"He's still a paying customer," Mamo reminds him. "And you're better than this."

"Yeah." He sighs. "Okay, I'm sorry, yeah? It won't happen again."

"Okay." Mamo squeezes his arm. "Go get some rest, Steve."

He nods, heads down the corridor to the dressing room, feels suddenly like he could sleep for a year.

\--

On Wednesday, Williams is blessedly absent, and Steve wonders if this means he finally got the message, but on Friday, he's back in his corner, drinking a bottle of beer, eyes fixed on the stage. Steve studiously ignores him, spends time on a group of frat boys who tip well and seem to be enjoying themselves, until Steve has to avoid a few wandering hands.

Chin hovers nearby, and Steve catches his eye, sees Chin have a murmured word or two with them between songs, can see the steely warning in Chin's eyes, and the calm nod he gives Steve after. He nods back, is pleased to find it had the desired effect, and it pushes Danny Williams from his mind until the final song, when he sees Williams' fixed blue gaze again, unwavering.

Even Steve acknowledges the guy is handsome, doesn't get why he spends his time staring at him. Williams fends off the odd admirer, doesn't seem to want to engage with anyone. Just sits there, and stares at him. It's unnerving and annoying, and Steve resolves to put it out of his mind. Don't trouble trouble.

When he's done counting the cash, later, he realises he's going to be short if he goes on like this, counting on next week's money to pay last month's bills. He showers and dresses, goes back out with a smile on his face, and sure enough, one of the frat boys sidles up next to him no less than ten minutes after he sits down at the bar.

"Yo, man."

Steve gives him a smile, watches the kid being dazzled. "Hi."

"You're, um, Steve, right?"

"Yes." He holds out a hand. "And who are you?"

The kid smiles nervously. "I'm Jake. My friends and I are from Boston."

"Hello, Jake from Boston. First time in Hawaii?"

A quick nod. "Yeah." He shifts in place. "So, um, you're pretty good."

Steve suppresses the urge to lean in and tell the kid it's okay. "Thanks. I'm glad you enjoyed the show."

"I don't suppose..." Jake's voice trails off and he blushes.

Steve leans forward and runs a finger over the boy's arm. "Suppose what?"

"That you might, um, wanna go show me the sights, or something. Sometime."

He's really too young and inexperienced for this place, but he's also clearly got money, that much Steve knows from how he and his friends were stuffing bills down his waistband earlier. "I can be persuaded to a lot of things."

"Persua--" The blush deepens. " _Oh_. Oh, um, okay."

"Yeah?"

Jake shifts in his seat again. "Should I ask how much?"

"You could." Steve smiles at him. "Fifty, right here, right now, if you want."

He swallows, but he's had enough to drink that the appeal takes the upper hand. He nods too quickly. "I, uh, okay." He digs in his pocket for money, hands over a bill.

Steve makes it disappear and tugs on Jake's hand. "Come on."

The boy follows, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes darting around when they get to the back room. "Uh," he says, then closes his mouth.

He watches warily as Steve brings out a condom, and Steve crowds him against the wall. "Hey."

Jake doesn't reply, suddenly surges forward and kisses him. It's sloppy and inexpert, and Steve cups his cheek, tries to gentle the onslaught. He pulls back slowly, looks into Jake's eyes. "I'm gonna blow you, that okay?"

A soft groan and an eager nod are the reply. Steve sinks down to his knees, unzips and unbuckles, and slides the condom on. Jake bucks into his hand, fully hard already, and this isn't going to last long. He slides his mouth down over the latex, presses his tongue against the underside, and a hand lands in his hair, gripping hard.

It's not comfortable but he can make do, takes in as much as he can, and he has to use his arm to press Jake back against the wall, keeping him from choking him. Still, Jake's unrelenting grip on his hair forces him to take the kid pretty deep and he blinks away moisture. He pulls back, tongues the head, and the kid slams back in, twice more, before coming hard.

Steve tugs himself free, sits back on his heels for a second, head down to make the watering of his eyes go away before he looks up and gets up off the floor.

Jake's leaning against the wall, looking spent, cock still hanging half hard out of his pants. Steve reaches out to tuck him back in, and gets shoved away. "Don't touch me!"

 _Whoa_. He holds up a hand. "Okay."

Jake strips the condom, drops it on the floor without tying it off, and zips up. The look in his eyes is suddenly less bashful innocence and a lot more casual contempt, and okay, having had Steve on his knees is apparently enough to flip a switch. This is exactly what Steve needed today.

He makes sure to inject enough steel in his voice as he says, "Let's go."

"Fuck you."

"Yeah, not going to happen." He grabs Jake's arm to get him to move, and is ready for the half-swing of the boy's fist. He uses the momentum against him, spins him around to press his arm up his back. "Don't be stupid," he says in Jake's ear. "You got what you paid for. Now go." He shoves the kid into the corridor and is relieved when he doesn't pick another fight, but goes meekly back into the club.

He leans against the doorway for a second, rubs his shoulder absently, before heading back to dispose of the condom.

When he pokes his head out to see if Jake and his friends are still there or if they've left, he finds Danny Williams staring straight at him from his corner booth. The frown on his face betrays exactly how he feels about what Steve just did, and Steve glares back at him. Let Danny Williams think what he must, it's not like Steve cares about his opinion. And if it turns him off Steve altogether, well, all the better.

\--

He doesn't have time left to sit and relax; by the time he's back in his dressing room, it's time to get ready for his third set and he shoves down everything, reapplies makeup, picks the right outfit, stretches his shoulder and tries to get himself in the right mood for the slower, more sensuous tone of his final act.

When he comes out, Danny Williams isn't there. A few regulars have straggled in, there's a group of women that have taken the frat boys' table, and the smiles on their faces are enough to make Steve forget about the earlier part of the evening, to make him smile back and do his job well.

\--

Danny Williams doesn't show for a week, and Steve can relax, except it doesn't really stop him checking the corner booth and finding it empty or occupied by someone else. He resolves to push it out of his mind, goes surfing with Kono again, pours his energy into work and exercise.

The corner booth stays empty, and Steve continues to ignore it.

\--

He's back when Steve thinks he won't show any more, sliding into the corner booth just as Steve has started his second set, eyes on the stage. It's so familiar he almost foregoes his irritation, then feels Williams' eyes on him again, the whole way through, and the annoyance burns its way up the back of his neck.

After his set, he can't help but stop by. "Back again?"

Williams looks up with an angelic smile on his face. "Hello again. Should I leave now to satisfy your paranoia, or is this just a social visit and can I stay?"

Steve's hackles are up at his tone. "I'm getting used to you. Kind of like furniture."

"You try to wound me," Williams replies. "That hurts, you know that?"

"Yeah." Steve smirks at him. "So where were you last week?"

That gets him a raise of expressive eyebrows. "Does that mean you care?"

"No," Steve replies curtly.

"Okay." Williams gestures to the bench opposite him. "Sit down, I'll tell you all about it."

Steve wants to resist, but in the end, he sits down anyway. "All right."

There's something like surprise in Williams' eyes, but he doesn't comment. "I had the late shift. There, that's your answer. I had to miss your otherwise stellar performances because I, sadly, am bound to shift work in my job."

In a flash, Steve wonders what Williams would look like late at night, tired and worn around the edges, his careful blond hair messed up and the lines around his eyes stronger. He stamps on the thought hard and fast, and covers it by clearing his throat.

"So you missed me, huh?"

"I did not miss you," Steve snaps, pointing a finger at his face. "I merely..."

"Yes?" He wants to smack that patient smirk off the guy's face.

"I was merely wondering about your wellbeing."

"Aw, he cares." Williams holds up a hand. "No, don't say anything, I know your stunted emotional growth doesn't allow you to admit it, but it's enough for me to know it's there."

"Fuck you," Steve says easily, and stands. "I've got to go."

"Wow, did you just manage to have a conversation with me without asking me to leave? I'm touched, babe."

The term of endearment makes Steve's hackles rise. "I'm not your babe, sweetheart."

"It's not sweetheart," Williams shoots back, "it's Danny."

"Well, fuck off, Danny." Steve turns on his heel and leaves the guy behind.

\--

The credit card statement lands on his doormat, and he knows it's trouble as soon as he sees the balance, counts the sixty dollars left in his wallet, and check his bank account to see how far he's gotten with scraping his rent together.

It's a bleak scenario.

He stops off at Mamo's office the next day. "Hey, you got any extra shifts for me?"

Mamo gives him a look. "Money troubles?"

"It's tight," Steve admits, sitting down in the extra chair. "If you don't have anything, it's cool, Mamo, I just--"

"I'll have a look," Mamo cuts him off, and his hand on Steve's arm is almost too much. He's glad when Mamo pulls away to reach for the scheduling book, and Steve leans forward to put his elbows on his knees.

"I can't get ahead of the game," he finds himself saying without meaning to. He presses his palms into his eyes. "Fuck."

Mamo's voice is warm. "We'll figure something out, Stevie."

He thinks about working extra shifts, about how well his shoulder will hold up, if the money is worth it, and sighs. A hand lands on his back.

"Hey, you'd tell me if it was too much, right?"

He looks up. "I can handle it."

"I could lend you something."

Steve shakes his head. "Beginning of the end, you know that."

Mamo nods. "I'd hate to see you back where you were when you first started. Your shoulder, back then..."

"It's a lot better now." Steve tries to force a smile. "Can you help me out or not?"

"I'm short a man Saturday night, I was gonna ask Jason, but you can have it if you want."

Steve sighs again. Saturday nights mean four sets, not three, and he knows it's hard for him to keep up with that. "Yeah, I'll take it." He bites his lip, but pushes through. "Write me down for it."

Mamo looks at him assessingly for a second, but he pencils Steve in.

\--

Monday morning first thing he's in Greg's office, the burning pain in his shoulder a companion since he woke up Sunday.

Greg pokes and prods, finally pronounces, "You overdid it, Steve."

"I know. Can you fix it?"

Greg shakes his head. "I can try. You'll have to do your best to give it some rest, though."

Steve nods. "I know, I know. I just need-- need to catch a break, I guess."

"Yeah. Lie down."

He does as he's told, relaxes as best he can through the treatment, worry gnawing at his side. He leaves with another appointment for Friday, and goes home to fall into bed, desperate to escape the world for a bit.

\--

He drags himself through his shift, and it's noticeable in the amount of money he makes. At the end of his second set, all he wants to do is take painkillers and a sleeping pill and go to bed, and his third set seems like an expanse too great to get through.

He takes the painkillers, curls up on the cot and waits for them to kick in. He has to make it through this week, just make it to the weekend so he can crash and rest up for a few days.

Danny Williams, who never stays for the third set, today does, sitting in his corner booth. Steve meets his familiar gaze, gets a soft smile, and instead of irritating it's a strange sort of lifeline, because he doesn't even like the guy, and yet he keeps returning to it.

He has to look away, focus on something else, on paying customers and bringing in the dollars that'll cover his rent check. When he leaves the stage, Danny's still there, eyes on Steve.

\--

He rushes through his shower and getting dressed, walks back out into the club to find Danny Williams in the process of settling his tab, and Steve stows his bag behind the bar and heads over just as Cindy wishes him a good night.

"Hey."

Danny turns around. "Oh, hey, there."

"You're here late," Steve comments.

"Yeah." Danny runs a hand over his hair and smiles sheepishly. "I, uh, couldn't seem to tear myself away tonight."

Steve grimaces. "Wasn't my best night, you should have picked another."

"I noticed." But there's nothing negative in his voice and he adds softly, "You okay?"

Steve ignores the urge to rub his shoulder. "I'm fine."

Danny narrows his eyes, but lets it pass. "Can I buy you a drink?"

An hour ago, all he wanted to do was go to bed, but right now, conversation and company are preferably to being alone and worried in the dark. "Sure."

"Orange juice, right?"

It's uncomfortable to be made aware of how much Danny's watched him, and he winces. "Yeah."

"Why don't you sit down, I'll go get the drinks." There's a quick hand gesture, and Steve slides into the booth, gratefully sinking into the cushions. Danny's back quickly, setting the glass down in front him. "Thanks."

Danny sits down across from him, a bottle of beer in his hand. "So, what did I do that makes it bearable for you to have a conversation with me?"

Steve bristles. "Who says it's bearable?"

Danny smiles indulgently, making Steve hate him a little. "Well, I don't see you running for the door."

Steve quirks a smile in spite of how he feels. "Okay, yeah."

"That's it? I've gotten used to spicier conversational comebacks from you, babe."

"I told you, I'm not your--"

"Yeah, I know, I know," Danny interrupts, hand waving again. "I'm from New Jersey, babe, it's nothing personal. You ask that cute waitress of yours, she'll tell you I'm this way with everyone."

Steve's eyes slide to Cindy, he feels an irrational stab of jealousy and, proving that he's too tired to be here, the words slip out of his mouth. "You put the moves on her, too?"

"Did I--?" Danny shakes his head, voice incredulous. "No, I didn't. Take that frown off your pretty face, I did not make a move on the waitress in the gay club, jesus."

Steve rubs a hand over his face, and jerks in surprise when a strong hand wraps around his wrist and tugs it away.

"Hey," Danny says, and his voice is softer now, in a different register that hits spots in Steve's chest he doesn't want to think about, "what's up with you today? Don't think I didn't notice you were miserable up there."

He pulls his hand out of Danny's grasp. "I'm fine."

"Note to self, don't be nice. Okay, got that. I won't do it again."

Steve bristles at that, can't believe suddenly that he's here and trying to talk to the guy. "Fuck off, okay? Just forget about it."

He's halfway out of his seat when Danny says, "Hey, hold up, don't run from me. Finish your juice, come on."

There's something persuasive about those blue eyes, and Steve is too tired to resist, sits back down. "Okay."

"Excellent. I won't needle you again." He takes a swig of his bottle of beer. "So, I'd never seen you do a late night show before. Is nice, babe."

Steve can't help smiling at that. "You like?"

"What's not to like?" Danny grins, making him look boyish all of a sudden. "I love watching you move, I think my attendance here makes that no secret, but that slow thing you do... nice."

"There's more where that came from," Steve says, wondering if he's stupid enough to offer this, stupid enough to want this a bit more than he should. "There could be, I mean."

Danny frowns. "You do private performances?"

"Yeah, or something more." He looks Danny straight in the eye, knows that he knows already what it is Steve does.

"Stop," Danny says, holding up a hand. "I'm a vice detective. And even if I wasn't, just because I like aesthetics doesn't mean I like to fuck you because your economical situation leaves you no other options. I'm not that guy, babe."

Steve takes the punch and rolls with it, comes up fighting. "So you're too good for this now?"

"Fuck you," Danny says, calm. "I like you, I like to look at you, there's no crime in that. But I'm not paying to fuck you, not now, not ever. If you end up in my bed, that'd be great, but it'll be because we both want to be there."

"You don't get to decide what it is I want," Steve shoots back.

Danny taps his finger on the table, his voice low now. "No, but I get to decide what it is _I_ want."

Steve is too tired for this after all, too tired for this conversation and for the sting of it. He stands, leaving his juice half drunk on the table. "Go to hell, Danny."

\--

He goes home to stand under the shower and pretend he doesn't feel like crap, works his way through stretches that make him bite his cheek to keep from making a sound. He studiously doesn't think about needing to go back to work the next day, knows he has to push through it no matter what.

He also doesn't think about Danny Williams, Danny Williams' hard eyes, Danny Williams' voice when he decided to grow a conscience all of a sudden.

He falls into bed, tosses and turns, doesn't find sleep until the sun peeks out from the horizon.

\--

He goes through Wednesday in a haze of pain, Danny absent from his corner booth, and when he finds himself curled up in the dressing room, trying to somehow find the power to get ready for his third set, he knows something's got to give.

Kai finds him, takes a look at him. "You okay, Steve?"

He sits up, winces, tries to nod. "Can you-- Is Mamo around?"

"He is, I'll get him." Kai slips out again, door closing softly behind him and Steve lets his head fall back against the wall.

Mamo comes in a few minutes later. "Stevie?"

"I thought I could do this, Mamo, but I--" He meets Mamo's eyes, forces himself to face his failure. "I can't do it, man, I can barely lift my arm, it's not--"

"Hey." Mamo sits down in front of him. "Go home, it's okay."

"I know I asked you for the extra shift," Steve says, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, I thought I could--"

Mamo squeezes his arm. "Go home. It doesn't matter."

It matters, Steve wants to say, but he swallows the words, nods. "I'm sorry," he offers, and Mamo smiles sadly. "Don't worry about it, brah. Go."

Steve goes.

\--

He sucks it up on Thursday, goes to the local clinic, lets them prod and poke and take x-rays before pronouncing an inflammation. "What do you do?" the young doctor asks.

Steve sighs. "I'm a dancer."

"You'll have to take some time off work," she replies, writing out a prescription.

"Not gonna happen." He takes the piece of paper from her. "I don't work, I don't get paid."

She shakes her head with a shrug. "It's your shoulder. Try to at least give it some rest. No other exercise, nothing too strenuous. See a physical therapist."

Nothing he hasn't heard before, and the doctor's resigned sigh follows him out the door.

\--

The prescription anti-inflammatories make him sick, but he's been here before, too, so he dutifully takes them and tries not to throw them back up. He misses his Friday shift, spends the weekend in bed until the doorbell rings on Sunday.

He presses the buzzer, waits the required ten minutes till whoever it is has climbed up all the flights of stairs, and opens the door to find Kono on the other side, a white plastic bag in her hand.

"Hi, brah," she says with a sunny smile, "you gonna invite me in?"

Steve steps aside to let her pass. She walks past him and puts the bag on the kitchen counter.

"So, here's the deal," she says. "First off, you could say hello. Second, you look like crap. Third, Chin told me what's going on, and I hazarded a guess that they put you on the same shit they put me on when I blew out my knee, so I brought you some food that worked for me. You don't want it, I won't be insulted."

Steve can't help but smile at that. "Thanks, Kono. And hi."

"Hi." She grins, unpacking food containers. The smells are not immediately turning his stomach, which makes him hopeful. "You want some?"

"Yeah." He grabs some plates and forks, and takes a careful poke at one or two different things. It's Asian food, not too spicy, but salty and rich in flavours. Before too long, he finds himself going back for seconds while they sit on the sofa watching surfing competitions on tv.

When there's an ad break on, Kono says, "How bad is it, this time?"

Steve shrugs, stops and forcibly relaxes his shoulder. He pokes at his food. "They said it's not too bad. Mild inflammation."

"Hurts like hell, huh?"

"Yeah." He leans his head back against the couch. "I don't have time to be sick."

Kono looks at him for a moment, then bursts out laughing. "No one has _time_ to be sick, brah."

Steve laughs as well. "Yeah, okay."

She shifts. "You gonna manage?"

"I'll have to."

"Not an answer to my question."

Steve sits up straighter. "What do you want to hear? That I'm broke? Yeah, I'm broke. And this way, I'm never not gonna be broke, but I don't do charity."

She punches his arm lightly, mindful. "Did you hear me offer, asshole? No. Stop feeling fucking sorry for yourself."

"I'm not--"

"Yeah, you are." She brushes her hair from her face. "Take a few days, rest up, try again."

He rubs a hand over his face. "Okay, you have a point."

"Find something you like. Or someone." She smiles. "Chin told me you have an admirer."

"Danny fucking Williams. Yeah, not going to happen." At her glance, he elaborates, "He turned me down."

"Wow, you had a rough week. Look on the bright side; it can't get worse."

Steve stares at her for a few seconds before throwing a carrot stick at her.

\--

He's back on Tuesday, the pain in his shoulder manageable. He adjusts his routine, tries to keep as much pressure off the shoulder as he can, and pulls himself through his shift. If he's not looking at Danny Williams, not noticing that blond head in the corner, who's the wiser?

Whatever their conversation the week before, Danny's back Wednesday, like clockwork, and Steve can't avoid him, can't avoid those blue eyes and their silent stare. It bristles, gets under his skin until he can't help himself, heads back out between sets and sits down in Danny's booth.

"Oh, hello," Danny says with a smile. "Nice to see you again."

"Enjoy the show?" Steve asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"I liked it." Danny takes a sip of his beer. "I heard you were sick."

"All better now," Steve replies with a smile. "Thank you for caring."

Danny shrugs. "I was disappointed, babe, when you weren't here."

Steve frowns. "That's a really creepy thing to say."

"And there I thought you could take it."

Steve leans back. "What you dish out? Yeah, I can take it."

"Are we on that again?"

"On what?"

"You know on what." Danny points a finger at him. "You're very beautiful, I do not deny this, but there are some things I don't do."

Steve bites his lip, lets the sting pass, says instead, "What _do_ you do?"

Danny frowns. "What is this, you coyly asking me if I'm queer? Yeah, babe, I fuck guys. I also fuck girls, and contrary to what you implied in the past, right now I'm not fucking anyone. Happy?"

Steve squashes the hollow feeling rising up in his chest. "So you're bi?"

"Yeah, if you must give it a name." Danny's irritated now, voice rising. "Are you one of those purists who doesn't believe in us?"

"I'm not anything." Steve finds his own anger rising in response. "What makes you think you know shit about me?"

"I know about as much about you as you do about me; your favourite beverage, your profession, and that you're a pain in the ass. The only thing I don't know is if you're gay or straight or somewhere in between."

"Gay," Steve replies.

Danny makes a gesture. "Glad we cleared that up."

Steve shrugs, stops himself. "I know you're from New Jersey."

"Yeah, half this island does. Usually before I open my mouth."

"So what's a haole cop from Jersey doing in Honolulu?"

Danny runs a hand over his hair. "Okay, so, once upon a time in New Jersey, two people got married and had a kid. And I don't know, maybe we were wrong for each other or maybe we stopped being right for each other, but she couldn't hack being married to me and she left." He sighs, suddenly looking human and tired and Steve almost wants to reach out to touch him, covers it by drinking a bit of juice. "She left and she found someone else and the guy fucking moves here, so I follow, because whatever else, it's my kid and I love her and I want to see her more than twice a year on school holidays."

"Okay." Steve isn't sure what to say. "That's--"

"Yeah, you tell me what that is." Danny waves his hands around. "I land on this hellhole that's obsessed with pineapples and related foods that are not in any food group I know, and everyone speaks a different language that they insist on calling English and snigger behind my back."

"Danny--"

There's no getting a word in edgewise; Danny points a finger in his face. "Don't Danny me. It's true, you people hate outsiders and so my life is now reduced to staring at strippers because for some fucking stupid reason, I can't stay away from you and your tattoos and your should-be-illegal moves."

Steve can't help but smile, amused.

"Don't think that makes me happy," Danny adds, running out of steam, "I know what this makes me, coming here every night, looking at you."

"What does it make you, Danny?" Steve asks softly.

"Not a lot of steps above a lowlife."

He thinks about that for a second. "What does that make me?"

"Ah, babe," Danny says, voice suddenly rich and warm, "I don't judge how you make your money."

"But you won't fuck me."

"That still on your mind? I'll fuck you, babe, I'll fuck you six ways from Sunday if you'd ask, if you wanted me to, but I won't pay for the pleasure."

Steve drains the last of his juice and stands. "Have a good night, Danny."

"Hey! Steve!" Danny calls after him, but he ignores it.


	2. Chapter 2

He tries to put Danny Williams and his irritating morality out of his mind, spends Thursday reading a book Kono recommended, finds himself sucked in and distracted and it's good until he realises he's been picturing Danny as the protagonist in his head. 

He never gets like this over tricks, nameless, faceless assignations that mean nothing, but Danny Williams and his moral high ground are getting under his skin. He just wants Danny to admit he wants him, just wants Danny to say yes and let Steve get on his knees because Danny needs him to. It doesn't stop him jerking off with the thought of it on his mind, using his left hand to spare his right, and he hates that, hates it all, but comes with Danny's name on his lips. 

\--

"What would you do if I came home with you?" he asks Danny Friday, slipping into his booth between sets. 

Danny stares at him, beer bottle halfway to his mouth. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Steve replies. 

"Oh, I did, babe, I did, I'm just sitting here wondering what you meant." Danny flaps a hand at him. "Do you want me to describe in detail what I'd like to do with you, or is this just you psyching me out? I get plenty of hazing in my day job, babe."

Steve flushes, hates himself for a second. "I'm asking."

"Asking or offering?" Danny puts his beer bottle down. "The rule hasn't changed since I last saw you."

"No money. I won't ask you for anything."

Danny peers at him suspiciously. "Why?"

Steve shrugs. "Maybe I've been thinking about you."

Danny nods slowly. "Maybe you have."

"You said," Steve replies, "that if I wanted to, you would."

"You have a twisted, twisted brain in that skull of yours," Danny says. "Plus, by my count, you still have some work to do this evening."

Steve does a double take. "You're turning me down because I can't come home with you right now?"

"Who said anything about turning you down? I haven't said a word yet about doing this or not." Danny peers at him. "I'm trying to decide what level of crazy I'm dealing with here."

"Fuck off then." He stands, deciding he's had enough, he's going to forget about this altogether, but Danny grabs his wrist. 

"Hey." Danny's thumb rubs over his skin, warm and more intimate than he has a right to. Steve yanks his hand back, and Danny lets go. "Steve."

"What?"

"I'll stay."

"So?"

Danny sighs exasperatedly, waves a hand at him. "So, if you decide at the end of this evening that you still want to come home with me, I'll be here."

"Fine." He turns on his heel and goes into the back, sits on the edge of the cot and presses his hands into his eyes. The memory of Danny's thumb on his skin burns, and he needs this, needs this to get Danny fucking Williams out of his system. 

\--

He evades Danny's gaze, focuses on people in other parts of the room, closer to him, to get through his final act without missing a step or looking utterly distracted. When he's done he showers, changes his clothes, checks his bag to make sure he's got condoms before walking back out into the club. 

He wasn't sure Danny would really still be there, but he is, leaning against the table of his favourite booth. Steve goes over, gets treated to a sweep of Danny's eyes up and down his body. "Hey, babe."

Steve raises his eyebrows. "You've seen the merchandise before."

"Which is why this is so pleasing to look at," Danny replies with a smile. "And since I don't want to make any assumptions, you still happy to come with me?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Great." Danny smiles widely, his face radiant all of a sudden, and it makes Steve's fingers itch. He clenches them into fists. 

"Okay, let's go."

Danny nods, puts a hand on Steve's shoulder, fingers warm through Steve's shirt and he lets himself be led outside. There's a breeze blowing in from the ocean as they walk the length of the pier, the lights of Honolulu spread out before them. 

Steve clears his throat to break the silence, then fails to find words. 

Danny glances at him. "Having second thoughts?"

"What is with you and your belief that I'm doing this against my will?" Steve snaps. 

"I don't know," Danny shoots back, "the way you seem to be into this about as much as a lamb going to slaughter."

"You don't know anything about me!"

"I know enough, I know you offered--"

He cuts Danny off before he can say anything Steve doesn't want to hear, shoves him up against the side of a building and kisses him hard. Danny makes a protesting sound under his touch, flails before settling a hand on Steve's back and yanking him in, returning the kiss, hot and strong.

When they come apart, Danny says, voice husky, "You crazy, crazy man."

"Shut up," Steve replies, kisses him again, bites at Danny's lower lip. Danny makes another sound, pokes him in the side until Steve twists out of the way. 

"We're going to do this in my bed. You promised to come home with me, I want that, I want sex in a bed."

Steve leans in, feels Danny's body against his own everywhere, compact muscle and a half hard dick poking him in the thigh. "What else do you want?"

"For you to stop looming. The rest I'll decide on when I get you naked."

"You've seen me naked."

Danny shoves him back, sets off down the pier again. "Yeah, I've seen you naked. Not the same."

Steve shrugs at that and follows.

\--

Danny drives a Chevy Camaro that feels like it would handle like a dream, and Steve can't help but jealously watch Danny change gears. Then he watches Danny's fingers on the stick shift, and he thinks about other things, and Danny glances sideways and catches him looking. 

"Oh, really, babe?"

"What?" Steve replies obstinately. 

Danny laughs. "Are you thinking about what you want to do to me?"

Steve suppresses the shiver he can feel building in his spine. "I thought this was about what you wanted to do to me."

"This coy side is not your cutest," Danny replies. "How about we figure out what we want to do to each other?"

Steve looks out the window and watches Honolulu slide by, doesn't answer.

\--

Danny's place is a two room apartment on the south end of town, and the second room is his daughter's bedroom. Steve takes a look at the pull out couch and shrugs. He's slept in worse places and this is not about sleeping. 

He drops his bag and leans back against the door, watches Danny turn on the lights. "Nice place."

"Shut up. Another reason to hate this town, the rent."

Steve sighs. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"You gonna compliment the furniture some more, or are we gonna go do something interesting?"

Steve lets himself slouch against the wall. "What did you have in mind?"

Danny points a finger at him. "You should remember I've seen your seduction routine and I'm not a paying customer."

"That's a point of pride with you, isn't it?" Steve can't help sneer a little. "Doesn't make you better than them, you know."

"Yeah, it does, but I'll save the lesson of why for another day because you're clearly not ready to hear it." 

Steve reaches down, pulls his t-shirt over his head in one smooth move. "You like what you see, Danny?"

He can see Danny swallow hard. "Come over here."

Steve unglues himself from the wall, walks over and smiles at Danny before sliding smoothly to his knees. He reaches out to unbutton Danny's slacks, and finds his wrists caught in Danny's firm grip. He looks up abruptly. 

"What are you doing down there?" Danny says, steel underneath a playful tone. 

Steve's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. "You're turning down a blowjob?"

"Oh, no," Danny replies, "I like a good blowjob as much as the next guy, babe, but I want to have sex with you, not your mouth."

For a moment, he feels a worthless anger in his chest, and he takes a deep breath, leans his forehead against Danny's hip. Danny tugs on his wrists and Steve becomes aware he's still holding them. He gets back on his feet. 

"Okay, babe," Danny says, sounding calm for all that Steve's trying not to feel, "you like to fuck?"

"In general or specifics?"

"Specifics. Dick in ass kind of specifics." Danny grins. "You got preferences?"

Steve shrugs. "I guess."

"Wow, I need to pry words out of you with a paperclip. Okay, so, if I tell you this sucking my dick thing, no matter how nice a proposition, is out, what would you like to do?"

"Fuck me," Steve says, feeling Danny's hands still around his wrists, thinking about his fingers on the gear stick earlier. He tries to suppress another shiver, but he can see Danny feels him tremble through his hands. 

"I could get with that programme," Danny says, smiles softly, and lets go of Steve's wrists in order to tug him down for a kiss. Steve backs him into the wall, has to bend his knees in order to be able to kiss Danny properly, and Danny prods at him until he pulls back. 

"What?"

"A bed," Danny replies, gesturing, "right there, where you just suggested I could fuck you. Move, Steven."

Steve nods absently, steps back to unbutton his pants. 

"Whoa, whoa, stop that. You wanna deny me all the fun? I've seen this act, babe, now it's my turn." 

And Danny's hands are on his again, are unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down, sliding over his skin as he does so. He cups Steve through his underwear, making him buck into Danny's palm involuntarily, and he can't stop the groan working his way up his throat. 

"Tell me," Danny says, voice hoarse. "Tell me, Steve, when was the last time someone touched you like this?" 

He gives a soft squeeze and Steve tries, tries to recall the last time, the last time he went out to have something for himself, and he swallows hard. 

"Answer me," Danny demands, thumb rubbing over the cotton of Steve's boxers, mindless and distracting. 

"Long time," he replies at last, leaning in to nose at Danny's hair. "Now shut up."

Danny laughs, softly, lets him go to carefully tug his underwear down, too. Steve steps out of his boxers and pants, skims his hands over Danny's chest, fingers fumbling with the small buttons. He gets them undone at last, pulls Danny's shirt out of his pants to reveal a lightly furred chest, strong with muscle and Steve has to touch, has to run his palms over Danny's skin, down his sides, probes fingers into Danny's waistband to push his slacks over his ass. 

Danny grins, loosens his tie and takes it off, follows it up with his shirt, and then he's only in his boxers, erection tenting the front. This time, Steve goes to his knees without thought, presses his mouth against the fabric, and Danny's hand lands in his hair. 

"If you're good," Danny says above him, "I'll let you blow me later," and Steve shivers hard at those words. 

Danny tugs on his hair. "Come on, babe." 

Steve pulls back, sits on his heels, looks up at Danny. 

"Bed," Danny says with a jerk of his chin, taking his damp boxers off, "I think you know by now I'm fond of the thing."

Steve is less than smooth when he gets on the bed, urgency making him undignified, and he stretches out to lie on his front. He starts a little when he feels Danny's lips against his spine, mouth working its way up, burning a slow trail into Steve's skin. He deviates from his path when he gets to Steve's right shoulder, presses a kiss against the scar of the exit wound. 

Steve jerks at the contact, can't help himself. "Ssh," Danny says, "didn't mean to hurt you."

"You're not hurting me," Steve manages, turns his head to look at Danny from one eye, "it's not-- the outside doesn't hurt anymore."

He can feel Danny's hard cock press against him, shifts under him to get Danny's attention back on what they were doing. "Eager, are you? All right. Is it okay if I ask you to turn over, babe?"

Steve twists to look at him properly. "What?"

"I'd like to see your face when I fuck you," Danny says. "But if that doesn't work for you..."

"No, it's fine." He turns over carefully without dislodging Danny. "I, uh, you got stuff?"

"I got stuff, yeah." Danny grins, but reaches for the nightstand and brings out condoms and lube. "You have preferences about this part?"

Steve thinks about Danny's fingers, surges up and pulls him down for a kiss, licks at Danny's mouth. It startles a groan out of Danny and he drops the items on the bed before cupping Steve's cheek and kissing back. 

Steve wraps his good arm around Danny's waist and rolls them, winds up on top as Danny squawks indignantly, and grinds down. "Yeah, I have preferences."

"Nnngh," Danny replies. "You wanna share with the class?" He's panting, but he's still bitching, and it makes Steve smile. 

"You can do it," Steve replies, and rolls off Danny back to where he was, encounters the lube along the way and fumbles for it before tossing it to Danny, who catches it deftly. He slicks up his fingers and Steve stretches out, one arm under his head so he can watch. 

Danny makes himself at home between Steve's legs, muscles him out of the way with broad shoulders and uses his clean hand to poke and prod until Steve is arranged to his satisfaction. Steve grins at him, half challenge, half anticipation, and then Danny's fingers are at his entrance and pushing in, and he groans and closes his eyes. 

"You good?"

"Yeah." He hears how breathy his own voice is, flushes a little. "Keep going."

There's a pause, then he feels Danny's lips press a kiss to the head of his cock, and it makes him open his eyes to stare at Danny, at Danny's smile. Danny crooks his fingers still inside Steve, and he has to bite his lip, feels Danny work on stretching him. Another finger and he lets his eyes slide shut again, groans when Danny brushes his prostate. 

"Babe?"

He cracks open an eye, meets Danny's grin. "What?"

"Don't have to ask if this is good for you, huh?"

"Shut up."

"Excellent." Danny looks all kinds of levels of smug as he puts a condom on, rearranges Steve until he's happy, one leg folded up to his chest, the other splayed out. He guides himself into Steve's body and it's bliss, too much and too fast and he grabs Danny's arm, making him pause. 

"Give me a second."

Danny nods, waits, sweat on his brow and Steve tries to catch his breath and relax. He lets his hand fall away and Danny resumes his movement, pressing slowly inside until he bottoms out. Steve gasps for breath for a second, can feel Danny's eyes on his face, forces out, "Fuck me, damn it."

Danny does as he's told, pulling out and thrusting back in, building a slow rhythm that has Steve wanting more, leaving him short of really getting the stimulation he needs. Danny's frown of concentration is beautiful, and Steve opens his mouth, wants to say something as Danny slides back in, slowly pushing into him until Steve can only gasp. 

"Babe?" Danny stills, leans over him, kisses at his mouth. Steve returns the kiss, or tries to, in between sucking in gulps of air. 

"'s good," he manages against Danny's lips, "need more."

"Hang on." Danny pulls out, holding on to the condom, and gets back on his knees, then pulls Steve up into his lap. Steve's too strung out to protest being manhandled, too tired to think about more than the next burst of pleasure, and when Danny pushes back in all he can do is sigh. 

The angle creates much better stimulation, Danny's hitting the right spots inside of him and he can't stop the sounds it pulls out of him. He wraps a leg around Danny's waist and pulls him in deep, making Danny groan his name. "Jesus, _Steve_."

"Yeah." He's not really there any more, he's chasing the feelings Danny's wringing from his body as he thrusts in and out, closes his eyes to feel Danny in him, against him, the sounds of Danny's breathing and the swearwords under his breath. His fingers scrabble for something to hold onto as Danny picks up the pace, but the sheets give as he claws at them. Danny's hand catches one of his and squeezes, and Steve squeezes back. Danny thrusts in again, and Steve goes over, orgasm blinding in its bliss for a moment. 

When he comes down off his high Danny's close to coming, thrusts erratic, and Steve lifts his hips, lets him slide home one last time, feels him come inside of him, and he opens his eyes to watch Danny's face, the way pleasure overtakes him, makes him go slack and smile a little as he comes down. 

\--

He drifts for a bit, Danny up against him, one arm slung over his chest. He feels appropriately fucked out, and it's a good feeling, makes him think this was exactly what he needed. 

When dawn starts shimmering through the curtains, he slips out from under Danny's arm, pausing to make sure he doesn't wake, and gets dressed before slipping out the door. It's a long walk before he gets to a bus service that'll take him north, but it clears his head, stretches muscles that have had their fair share of exercise the night before, and when he gets home, he falls into bed and a dreamless sleep.

\--

"There's something about your face," Kono says when he meets up with her on Sunday. 

Steve pulls his most innocent expression and says, "What?"

She grins at him as she drops her stuff in the sand. "I'll figure it out."

Steve can't help grinning back, tries to smother it but fails. 

"Oh, oh, McGarrett, did you get some, brah?" He looks away, but Kono's laughing now. "I did say! Who?"

"Danny," Steve admits as he straps his surfboard to his ankle. 

"The guy from the club? I thought that wasn't happening?"

Steve shrugs. "I guess I'm irresistible."

Kono punches his good shoulder. "You're too cocky by half, Steve, seriously."

"Yeah, yeah. You up for a few waves?"

"Like you need to ask." She's picked up her board and is running into the waves before Steve can react, and then the race is on and he's following her out into the surf.

\--

"So," Chin says Tuesday, "did I see you leave with that cop last week?"

"You're as bad as your cousin," Steve shoots back, but he can't help smiling. "And it's none of your business."

"Of course not," Chin replies easily. "So should I stop keeping an eye out in case he turns out to be a mad stalker wanting to slice you up into pieces?"

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Chin Ho Kelly, you have a scary imagination."

Chin shrugs. "It's what I'm being paid to do."

"I guess." Steve claps a hand on his shoulder. "But yeah, brah, you can stop keeping an eye out. I don't think he'll show again, anyway."

It's Chin's turn to raise an eyebrow, but he doesn't comment. "Mamo was looking for you."

"Okay, thanks." Steve heads through the club, closed between the afternoon and evening shift, looking dreary and cheap without the spotlights hiding its flaws. He ignores it, heads into the back and helps himself to coffee in Mamo's office. 

Mamo smiles when he accepts his own mug. "Stevie, you have a good weekend?"

No matter how long Steve will work for him, he'll never rid Mamo of his childhood nickname. There are worse things, he supposes. "Yeah, it was all right." He meets Mamo's knowing eyes. "I guess a guy can't keep secrets around here."

Mamo grins. "As long as you're happy, brah."

"Yeah, yeah." He sips his coffee. "This what you wanted to see me about?"

Mamo shakes his head. "No. Got a call about a bridal shower, private party, they'd like to book you."

Steve considers this. "When?" 

"That's the thing, their venue cancelled on them or there was some kind of problem, I didn't get the details, but they're looking for something for Friday. Double fee if you'll do it."

Steve whistles under his breath. That sort of money solves a lot of problems. He absently rubs at his shoulder. "You need this booking, don't you?"

Mamo frowns. "Steve..."

"Come on." He rubs a hand over his face. "If it were anyone but me, you'd have said yes on the spot."

"It isn't anyone but you, it's you," Mamo replies. "And they're asking for you because you're the best I've got, and you know it."

He grins wryly at that. "Yeah, thanks. Okay, I'll do it. Get me a list of their preferences and I'll work something out so it doesn't kill me to do two shifts in one day."

Mamo gives him a hard stare, and Steve meets his eyes head on. Finally, Mamo nods. "All right. I'll call them back and work something out."

"Okay." Steve stands, finishing his coffee. "I'm gonna go get ready."

\--

His first set is uneventful, the evening slow, only a few patrons trickling in. He resigns himself to an uninspiring night, but the turnout gets better with his second set, slowly, and he manages to pull the customers away from the bar and the tables and gets them to cluster around the stage. Smaller crowd means a more intimate performance, so he gives them his best soft smile and silent stare, and it does all right. 

When he leans in to kiss one of the few young women there on the cheek, he gets boos from some of the guys, so he turns to a group of them, says, "Hi," to the youngest, and kisses him full on the mouth. 

The catcalls are priceless. When he gets back on his feet, there's a lot of money everywhere, and he's happy to lean in and receive it, doesn't object to a few wandering hands, not when he's given them this kind of performance. 

When he comes off stage, Mamo's giving him a thumbs up and Cindy is working double speed to keep up with all the drink orders suddenly flooding in, and Steve can't help but smile. 

Danny's corner booth is empty.

\--

When he leaves he has a nice amount of cash in his pocket and the feeling he's done a good night's work without the distraction of Danny sitting in the corner, staring. He shoulders his bag and starts down the pier, only to be confronted with the subject of his thoughts, leaning against the railing under a lamp post. 

"Hey, babe."

"Jesus." He lets his bag drop to his side in shock. "What the fuck, Danny?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Danny says. 

"And you couldn't come into the club like a normal person?" Steve squints at him. "What do you want?"

"Talk, Steven, that thing with words."

Steve crosses his arms over his chest. "You mentioned that. So talk."

"I just wanted to know," Danny says slowly, "what the hell that was, Friday night. Or should I say Saturday morning?"

"It was sex, Danny. We had sex." Steve tries to decide between walking away and staying here, but can't make up his mind, so he ends up staying in place. "I'm sure you've done it before."

Danny sneers. "Haha, very funny."

Steve shoulders his bag again, sets off down the pier. 

"Hey, asshole, I was talking to you!" 

He turns back around. "What do you want, Danny? You want to fuck me some more? Tough luck, I'm all out of favours."

"Is that what it was for you? A quick fuck, _wham, bam, thank you, ma'am_?" Danny gestures at him. "I'm not saying it was love at first sight, babe, but I like you and I thought we had a bit more going on than that."

"I'm sorry you got your feelings hurt," Steve snaps, "but I don't do this, okay? I don't date, I don't do this whole, 'let's see if it can be special between us' thing. I don't know what gave you that idea."

"So what, you thought you'd fuck me, get it out of your system?"

His heart skips in his chest for a second, but he ignores it, glares at Danny. "You got what you wanted, didn't you? So leave me the fuck alone."

Danny gapes. "I got what I-- Oh, babe."

"Leave me alone, Danny." He turns around, keeps walking, hears Danny call his name and ignores him for all he's worth. 

\--

At home he drags himself into the shower, turns it up hot and stands under the spray. He squeezes his eyes shut to get the memory of Danny out of his head, Danny's eyes, the anger in Danny's voice, the ghost memory of Danny's touch on him, in him. He's half hard and breathing too fast, and when he reaches down to touch himself, it's to the memory of Danny's fingers. 

He hates himself, hates the memories, hates letting Danny get under his skin. 

When he comes, he lets himself slide to the floor, sits there until the water runs cold and forces him out. 

\--

Danny's back in the corner, sitting there nursing a beer, and the shock of seeing him is almost enough to make Steve falter. He looks away, gathers his wits about him again, returns to his routine. It's hard to focus, aware as he is of Danny's gaze on him, and when he can escape back to the dressing room, he does, sitting down on the cot without bothering to put any clothes on. 

Kai glances at him in surprise. "You all right, Steve?"

"Fine, I'm fine." He waves him off, reaches for his boxers and tugs them on, before stretching out and staring at the ceiling. 

Danny Williams isn't going to go away, which means Steve will have to live with his presence. Fine, he can do that. He's not going to let the guy get to him. It was stupid to sleep with him and he's paying the price, but he doesn't have to keep paying.

He doesn't look at Danny as he goes back out into the club, sits by the bar, waits calmly. They always come, this night is no different, there's a smile and a hand on his arm and the offer of a drink. Steve smiles back, accepts, makes small talk until the question comes up, and then he walks the guy through the steps, the money, the back room, the condom he doesn't go without, and it's easy. He ignores Danny as he kisses the guy goodnight, his name already forgotten, and ignores Danny's absence when he returns to the stage for his final set. 

\--

The bridal shower Friday afternoon is served champagne in the backroom, decorated and intimately lit, and Steve gives them all a smile and does what he needs to do. He gets them over their shyness, makes sure to pay attention to the lucky lady who's getting married, and lets them touch. 

It's easier money than he makes some nights, but it's also more personal. He asks names, gets up close; he knows he doesn't have to worry about himself here, but it also doesn't give much back, and at the end of the afternoon he's tired and hollowed out. 

He catches an hour's sleep on the cot until Mamo wakes him for dinner. 

His shoulder's stiffening up, burning with that low grade pain that suggests he's going to overdo it tonight, and he stretches it carefully, takes some anti-inflammatories and suffers his way through dinner while nauseous. 

He throws up just before he has to go on stage, cursing himself the whole way, and it's Cindy who finds him, shaky and sweating. "Oh, Steve," she says softly. "Want me to get Mamo?"

He shakes his head. "I need to get out there."

"Like this?"

He gets his feet under him, takes a deep breath or two, reaches for a bottle of sports drink he's kept handy. "I'll be okay."

"You're fucking crazy," she replies. 

"I've done worse things," he snaps, not ready to deal with her compassion. 

"And if you collapse on stage?" She raises her eyebrows at him. "You can't go up there like this, Steve."

"Cindy--" The door opens and Kai sticks his head in. "They're looking for the both of you."

Steve gives her one last glare, takes a few sips of the bottle he's holding, and heads out to the stage. 

\--

He's dizzy when he comes off, manages to make it to the dressing room on touch and familiarity, and then Mamo's hand is on his shoulder, on his neck, steering him to a chair and pushing his head down between his legs. 

"'m good," Steve mumbles. 

"Sit," Mamo replies. "Take a break, Stevie."

He wants to push him off but the blood is roaring in his ears and he's still seeing spots. "I'm sorry," he manages, feels his stomach roll again. "Shit, Mamo, I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey, stop that." The hand in his neck squeezes softly, and Steve almost wants to lean in. "Not your fault, kiddo. You didn't screw anything up, it'll be okay."

Steve nods, stays hunkered down a bit longer, then tries sitting up. The fog's cleared out for the most part, and Mamo hands him the sports drink bottle. He takes slow sips. "I need to eat something."

"Not while you're feeling sick."

"I can't go out there again, I'll pass out. I need food."

"Steve. Stevie." He looks up to meet Mamo's eyes. "Take five minutes."

"Yeah, okay." He blows out a breath and leans back. "Okay."

"You've got to stop pushing yourself so hard." 

"No one to pick up pieces if I don't, Mamo," Steve reminds him, scrubbing a hand over his face. 

Mamo slowly shakes his head. "Okay."

Steve peers at him. "Okay what?"

"Okay, I won't add to your troubles. What do you need?"

He swallows the urge to feel pathetically grateful, just nods instead. "You got protein bars lying around?"

"I'll get you some. Then I gotta go back out there, brah."

"I know." Steve manages a smile. "Thanks, Mamo."

\--

He manages to make it to the end of the night before puking his guts out again, and finally agrees to let Mamo drive him home. 

"Come up and I'll lend you my sofa," he offers. 

Mamo laughs. "I'm too old for those stairs and for sleeping on couches, Stevie."

"Yeah." He scrubs a hand through his hair. "I'll be by tomorrow to pick up my car."

"Sure thing. Get some rest."

He nods, trudges up his nine flights of stairs, and falls into bed without bothering to undress.

\--

He spends the weekend recovering, mostly in bed, resting his shoulder and his stomach in equal measure. When he's back at work Tuesday, he feels like himself again, is able to pull in the customers and grace everyone with a smile and a personal touch. 

Danny's sitting in his corner booth, watching, and Steve lets him, ignores him as best he can. 

When he's on stage, he spots a familiar face, goes out between sets to say hello to a regular client. 

"Brad."

"Hey, Steve."

Easy smile, a lot of money to throw around, a man who likes to relax off the job, which Steve is sure is in one of the many skyscrapers dotting downtown, and who chooses this club because it's small and there's less chance of being recognised. Nowadays, he keeps his wedding band on his right hand, not hiding the wife he goes home to after. None of which is technically Steve's business, but he knows it nonetheless. "Haven't seen you around in a while."

"Missed me, did you?" The smile is back, and they both know it's empty flirtation. "I've been busy."

"Looking to unwind?"

"I unwind easily enough with you around."

Steve smiles back, forces himself to work for his money. "Glad you're enjoying yourself."

Brad's looking him up and down, casually. "Oh, I am, I am." 

Steve runs a finger over the back of Brad's hand. Brad turns it over and takes hold of it, still smiling. "I've been thinking about you."

Steve resists the urge to pull his hand free. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Brad leans in and lowers his voice. "You got time?"

"Sure." He has a while yet, and Brad's easy work. He slips off the bar stool and knows Brad follows, feels hands settle on his hips as soon as they get into the private back area, Brad pulling him back against his body, hard cock against Steve's ass. 

"I've been thinking," Brad says again, mouth near Steve's ear, "about you a lot."

Steve laughs, easy, slips out of Brad's grasp and turns around. "Easy, tiger." He unlocks the door to the backroom, relocks and leaves the keys in there. 

Brad looks him up and down again. "How much would buy me more than your mouth?"

The question doesn't surprise him, but he takes a second too long to answer. "Not for sale."

"Everything's for sale."

Steve grins. "You asshole, you get that line out of a movie?"

Brad shrugs. "Maybe I did." He leans against the wall. "Still, there's truth in it. We both know there is."

"Yeah, there is." Steve runs a hand through his hair. "The usual at the usual price, Brad."

"You give great head," Brad says speculatively, "I'm wondering how much that ass of yours'd be worth."

Steve crosses his arms over his chest. "You want this or what?"

Brad pulls out his wallet, pulls out a fifty dollar bill, and holds it up. Then he pulls out another three. "Two hundred dollars. Offer's on the table."

Steve swallows, knows what that money buys. "I don't--"

"I won't ask to go bareback and I won't assume it'll happen again." 

"I don't do--"

"Easiest money you'll ever make," Brad interrupts. He steps forward and puts the money on the table, near Steve. 

Steve watches him wait for an answer, wars with the part of him that wants to say yes, wants to say no. "I don't do this."

"I know, and I've always respected that. I'm asking."

It's just one time, and who would know? He nods before he can think about it. "You better have brought lube."

"I did." Brad smiles, that casual, easy smile again. Steve sees how he might be successful in business. "You wanna drop trou and assume the position?"

He pushes down on his irritation at that comment, swipes the two hundred dollars off the table and shoves them into his pocket before unbuckling his belt. He lets his pants fall to the floor, pushes his underwear down over his hips. He hears Brad whistle through his teeth behind him, leans his palms against the wall. 

The first touch of hands on his ass is still jarring, and he nearly starts and needs to rely on old training not to. Slick fingers are pressing into him, cold and intrusive and he wants to clench, forces himself to relax. It's familiar, easy, Brad leaning in behind him, pressing a kiss under his ear. "Look at you."

Steve makes a sound, not sure if he's protesting or agreeing, groans when Brad starts stretching him with strong, experienced fingers. His cock is thickening against his thigh and he shoves back onto Brad's fingers a bit. 

"Oh really?" Brad's voice is a half-whisper, air brushing over Steve's skin. "Pushy, hmm?"

"I don't have all night," Steve replies, keeping himself just short of snapping. 

"Hmmm," Brad says again, kisses Steve's neck, possessive hand splayed on Steve's hip. "You ready?"

"Yeah."

There's a pause as Brad rips open the condom packet; Steve trusts him with this, unlike other clients Brad's never given him a hard time over safety. Then he's guiding himself into Steve's body, slowly but surely, fucking into him with short strokes and it makes Steve rock onto his toes. 

"This good for you?" Brad reaches around, touches him, strokes him, and Steve slaps his hand away. He's still half hard, Brad's slow strokes not enough to get him where he needs to be. There's enough slick not to make it uncomfortable, but he can't manage to get into it at the same time. He hangs his head, braces himself when Brad picks up the pace.

"Oh, yeah," Brad whispers in his ear, "you take it so well, Steve, god, I knew you'd be like this."

He feels Brad's fingers on his stretched skin and it makes him want to pull away. He holds himself in place instead, takes it when Brad slams back in, hard and fast, rocking him back up to his toes. He's not surprised when Brad tugs him back, pulls him into a better position to fuck into him without stopping, and Steve takes it, lets Brad take out his frustration on him for the price of two hundred dollars, sitting in Steve's pants pocket, pooled around his ankles. 

\--

When they're done and Brad's zipping up and smiling, Steve is tired and thinking about his final set and how much time he'll have to shower, and he barely manages to return Brad's parting kiss before heading to his dressing room. 

He's sore in the wrong places and he rushes himself through a shower, makeup, dresses and is back out on stage, five minutes later, where he spots Brad at a table near the front, lazy smile on his face. 

It's hard to focus, hard to not pointedly look away from the man who just fucked him, even harder when Brad tips as well as he always does. He plays along, lets routine do everything for him. He knows how to do this job, how to do it well, so he does it, puts on the act he needs to until he can go home and crash. 

\--

He showers again when he's home, falls into bed, wakes too early because he forgot to draw the curtains and it's light out. He burrows back under the covers until the alarm goes off, and drags himself into work. 

Chin stops him at the door. "Wow, you okay, Steve?"

"I'm good." He rubs a hand over his face. "Didn't sleep too well."

"Happens to the best of us. Take it easy, yeah?"

He returns Chin's easy smile. "Yeah, I will, thanks." He heads for the dressing room, stretches out on the cot for a few minutes until Mamo pokes his head in. 

"You okay, Stevie? Chin said--"

Steve holds up a hand, sitting up. "I'm fine, Mamo. Rough night, nothing more. Don't worry."

"Okay. You want some coffee?"

He tries a smile, feels it sit uneasily on his face. "I'll be right there."

\--

He sits in Mamo's office, chats about everything and nothing, tries not to drift off midsentence. He's tired, but he's trained to function past tiredness, he's slacking if he can't shake this off and get to work. 

Mamo suggests a change of routines. "We've got the summer trade coming in soon, we need to spice things up, bring in some tourists."

Steve rubs a hand over his face. "I agree, though the pier doesn't attract a lot of tourists."

"What we do attract spends money," Mamo reminds him. "We need to do well."

"Still not making what we should?"

"Enough to get by, not enough to cushion us if it gets worse." Mamo puts a hand on his arm. "I don't want to worry you, we're not going under."

Steve laughs dryly. "Thanks. I'll see what I can come up with, change the music, talk it over with the guys."

"Great."

Steve smiles tiredly, finishes his coffee.

\--

The memory of Danny's eyes as he watched from his usual spot the night before follows him the next day, like something he can't shake. He loads a bunch of new songs onto his mp3 player as he heads out for a run, tries to imagine different acts to them, and finds himself wondering what Danny would think of them, if Danny would watch him perform from the corner table, if Danny would like a particular move. 

It makes him push himself harder, run faster, until he's back home taking the stairs two at the time, gasping for breath when he unlocks his door with trembling hands. He sheds his clothes as he walks through the apartment, steps into the shower, braves the first shock of cold as the water warms. 

He's got his cock in his hand without thinking about it, squeezes his eyes shut against the memory of Danny's hands on him, Danny's mouth against his skin, Danny's eyes, Danny's smile, Danny's soft, "What do you want, babe?"

He comes hard, watches the shower wash away the evidence, clamps down on the urge to scream in frustration. 

\--

He slips into Danny's booth, gives him a smile, says, "Hi."

Danny's eyes widen a little in shock. "Hey."

"Can't stay away?"

"Fuck you," Danny says. "I'm not going to sit here and be judged by you."

"I don't see you leaving," Steve shoots back. 

"Are we on that again? Seriously?"

Steve leans back in his seat. "I don't get you."

"Yeah, that makes two of us." Danny runs a hand over his hair. "What don't you get, babe? Let me have it."

"Why." Steve looks around the room, eyes landing back on Danny. "Why does this make you so much better than everyone else? Because you don't pay me? Because you had me for free? What's with the moral high ground?"

Danny sits up, points a finger at him, opens and closes his mouth before finally speaking. "I never asserted I had the moral high ground. This, me coming to watch you, yeah, it's... I don't know what it is because I respect your right to make money and I don't have a problem with people taking their clothes off to do it. Do I want my daughter considering this a viable career choice? No. But I don't-- Whatever led you here, it's your choice."

"So?"

"So what?"

"So why do you think fucking me for free is such a big deal?"

Danny flaps a hand at him, eyes staring, boring into Steve's. "Seriously? You are fucked in the head, my friend."

"Danny--"

"No, wait, I'll explain. That was uncalled for, I apologise." Danny sucks in a breath. "People should not, should _not_ have sex with other people who do not want it. This is a really simple rule. When you throw money into the mix, you muddy this rule. I do not like it, and I won't do it."

"I'm not a damsel in distress, I don't need saving," Steve throws in his face, clenching his teeth. 

"Hell, no, do I look like I'm trying to save you? You're not the stripper with the heart of gold, and I'm not your fucking saviour. This isn't a movie."

Steve slams his hand down on the table. "No, it's not a fucking movie. So will you just stop being so holier than thou?"

Danny leans in. "Why does this bother you so much, Steven? Come on, talk to me."

"Fuck you. Tell me, Danny, how much money do you have on you, right now?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Yeah." Danny yanks out his wallet, pulls out a few bills. "Ten, twenty, here's another two fives, that's thirty, couple of singles. Your point?"

"Give me that and you have me. I'll even come home with you, you don't have to sit here and stare at what you can't have."

Danny gapes. He stands, pulling himself to his full height, which isn't much, and leans over the table. "You think you're doing me a favour, Steve? You think this, this is what I want?" He sucks in a breath, controlled fury in his voice. "You think you're worth this, thirty two fucking dollars, for me to do as I please. I really, really hate you right now."

He grabs his wallet and cash off the table, and walks out. 

\--

Steve pays his bills the next day, adds it up and writes out checks, and when he pulls out Brad's two hundred dollars, he suddenly feels tired again. 

It pays Greg's bill with not much left over, but it makes him comfortably able to also pay the rent, and it's easy, so easy, to think about how he could do it again. 

Steve presses his palm into his eyes, stares out the window for a bit, finally gets up, changes his clothes, puts on his running shoes, and heads out the door. 

He doesn't think about his route, about where to go, he just runs, keeps going and pushing himself until he loses track of anything but his feet pounding on the pavement, carrying him forward, the burn in his muscles, the jarring of his shoulder wound. 

It's too much and not enough and he winds up at the beach front, a few miles from his apartment, strips off his t-shirt and shoes and wades into the water, loses himself in the surf and the ocean and everything familiar. 

It's too soon when his shoulder starts burning, the injury that sidelined him permanently, that blew apart not just his shoulder joint but his life, his career, everything he'd believed in up till then. He floats on his back, stares at the blue sky, lets the waves wash over his face and wash away all traces of tears. 

Navy SEALs don't cry. 

He heads back to shore when he's hollowed out, empty, done in. 

\--

When he's back at work and not thinking about Danny, not caring that Danny's not there and probably never coming back, not wondering where Danny is and what he does when he's not watching Steve dance, the hollow feeling stays his companion. 

He lets it be, ignores it, knows that there will be other things to fill it and make him forget. 

There's a young guy on the first row, holding out tentative bills and Steve recognises that shyness, gives him an extra smile, gets one in return. He gets on his knees for the kid, lets him reach out and tuck the bills into his waistband. 

Other hands reach for him, familiar faces, unfamiliar ones, a wandering hand or two that Steve moves out of the way of. It's not all young innocence, it never was, and when he makes his exit to catcalls and applause, he knows that it's life, and nothing more. 

\--

Danny's in the next day, and the relief of seeing him carries Steve forward, makes him smile, makes him work that bit harder. It's fucked up, he knows it is, can't deny what's going on any more, and when he heads out between sets, straight for Danny's booth, Danny's already on his feet, leaving money on the table. 

"Don't go," Steve says impulsively. 

Danny glances at him. "You think you still have something to say to me, babe?"

"Danny..."

"The last time we spoke," Danny says slowly, "you implied some seriously disgusting shit."

"Yeah." Steve runs a hand over his face. "Look, can you give me five minutes?"

"Are you going to use them to apologise?"

"Danny, I--" Steve blows out a breath. "Look, okay, maybe I shouldn't have said some of that."

"That's a start." Danny leans against the table, crosses his arms over his chest. "Go on."

"But you-- Look, why do you have to be all moral about it? How I make my money is my choice."

"I never said it wasn't!" Danny stops, takes a breath, starts again. "I never, in all of this, ever said you were anything at all for doing this. I don't think much of the guys who pay you, but I never said I don't think much of _you_."

"You pay to come here."

Danny pokes him in the chest with a finger. "Yeah, I pay my cover charge like everyone else. You know that's not what I'm talking about, don't be coy. I told you it isn't cute."

"I--" Steve winds up having no words, lets out a breath and hangs his head before looking back at Danny. "Look, forget about money."

Danny cocks his head. 

"Stay for the final act," Steve says, tries a smile, fails. "Stay, and I'll come home with you, Danny."

"I don't want another one of your favours, Steve."

He clenches his fists in frustration. "This isn't-- I'm not doing this for you, Danny."

"Babe." Danny reaches out, puts a finger under Steve's chin and he jerks his head back. "I don't think you know what it is you're doing."

Steve grabs Danny's hand, moves it out of his personal space. "I make my own choices, Danny."

"And I mine, Steve." Danny's expression is sad, and Steve wants to be angry at that. "I would gladly take you home with me if I thought that it was me you wanted."

Steve bristles at that. "I don't date, Danny, I don't do relationships or whatever."

"You ever think about why not?"

"Too much hassle."

"Yeah, all that trouble, all that hard work, just so you can be loved." Danny sounds sad, too, and Steve wants to punch him, and wants to beg a little, too. "What are you afraid of, babe?"

He backs up a step, says, "I've got to get ready."

Danny's hand snakes out to grab his wrist. "Steve."

He pulls back, yanks his hand out of Danny's grip, says, "I've got to go."

\--

"Your friend was in yesterday, left this for you." Chin's holding out an envelope with Steve's name on it. 

He blinks, squinting, not sure if he's awake after the mostly sleepless night he's spent, but takes it. "Thanks."

"And jesus, Steve, consider getting some sleep."

"Yeah, I know." He rubs a hand over his face. "I'll be okay."

"You keep saying that; I believe you less and less."

He manages to reply to that with a smile, and he makes his way to the dressing room, tears open the envelope. _Steve,_ the small note on clean white paper reads, _maybe we've been doing this backwards. Call me if you would like to get coffee sometime. Danny._ His phone number is scribbled at the bottom, and Steve presses his thumbs into his eyes, the note fluttering to the ground. 

He doesn't know how long he sits there. Finally, stiff as if he's been out running too long, he gets out his phone, picks up the note, and dials. 

"Detective Williams."

He swallows. "It's Steve."

"Hey, babe."

"I don't date, Danny."

"And here you are calling me anyway. You know what? Let's not date. Let's have a friendly cup of coffee and see if we have more to say to each other than 'fuck you'."

"Danny--"

"You doing something tomorrow? I know a place, I promise we'll split the check like friends do."

Steve can't help a smile at that. "Okay, Danny."

Danny names a time and a place, Steve writes them down, and says, "See you tomorrow."

"Looking forward to it," Danny replies, and he sounds genuine for a moment. 

Steve hangs up. 

\--

He picks out jeans and a blue t-shirt, and if he knows the shirt is a little tighter than some others he owns, well, none the wiser. He finds the place easy, near Danny's apartment, and Danny's already in a booth, smiling when he sees Steve come in. 

"You look nice, babe."

"Thanks." Steve slips in across from him, looks at Danny's plain black t-shirt and realises he's never seen him out of a button down shirt. "You, too."

"What can I get you?"

"Black with a shot of vanilla," Steve replies.

"Adventurous spirit," Danny comments, but he's already off to the counter to order before Steve can ask what he meant. 

Danny returns with Steve's drink and something frothy for himself. Steve reaches out, swipes a dollop of froth off the top and licks it off his finger. "Nice."

"This," Danny says, pointing at him, "is not helping with the whole this-is-not-a-date atmosphere."

Steve tries to look suitably abashed. "Sorry. It was so tempting."

"Yeah," Danny grumbles. He smiles again a moment later. "Fine, I forgive you."

"Magnanimous of you."

"Yeah, that's me." 

Steve takes a sip of his coffee, glances out the window before focussing back on Danny. "Look, are we going to talk about this?"

"About what? What people normally do when they have coffee? Place of birth, education, hobbies, family?"

Steve sighs. "Born here, Naval Academy at Annapolis, I surf, I run, I swim, one sister, she lives in LA."

"Okay, you know I meant that as a joke, right?" Danny runs a hand over his hair. "You're a lot of work, you're lucky I like you. Most people expend a conversation on that, an exchange of thoughts, etcetera."

"Sorry."

"Stop looking so bashful, you're driving me crazy."

Steve leans back. "Look, Danny, if you don't want to do this--"

"No." Danny reaches across the table, takes his hand. "I'm an angry person, I yell a lot, it's nothing personal."

Steve can't help himself, rubs his thumb over Danny's skin. "I don't know what this is, okay."

"Yeah, I know, I get that, I'm amazed you're here. Last time I saw you you did a bunny rabbit, so..." Danny looks at their hands, then at him. "Did you figure it out?"

Steve raises his eyebrows. "What?"

"Why you don't do relationships?"

Steve looks out the window again, pulls his hand back. "I don't know."

"Okay." Danny smiles. "So, Annapolis. You were in the Navy?"

"Yeah. Invalided out, two years ago now." It doesn't ever not hurt to say that. 

"Your shoulder?"

He nods. "Never gonna heal, so I make do."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your problem, Danny."

"Yeah, no, it is, babe." Danny drinks some coffee. "How'd you wind up stripping?"

"Mamo's an old friend. I didn't have any place to go after-- My father died just before I left the service, my sister and I aren't close, so. One night I'm there and Mamo's act doesn't turn up. It's a full house, I'd seen the show a few times, thought I could do it."

"Wow."

He shrugs. "It went okay. It was something I could do and it was fun. I covered a few shifts, eventually we made it permanent." He stirs his coffee absently. "How did you wind up a cop?"

"Always wanted to be one." Danny smiles. "Went into the academy straight after college, never looked back. Some days I hate it, but only on the bad days."

"I know that feeling."

"Yeah, you would." Danny studies him for a second, and Steve knows something's coming. "When's the last time you dated anyone?"

Steve decides he owes Danny an answer to that one. "Year and a half ago, there was a guy, we went out for a bit."

"He didn't like the stripping?"

"I don't think he cared." He shakes his head. "I'm not made for relationships."

"Why not?"

He sits up, defensive. "What's with the questions, Danny? Let it go."

Danny holds up his hands. "Okay, okay, I'll let it go."

He looks at Danny, tries to remember why this seemed like a good idea. "I don't know what I'm doing here. Thanks for the coffee, Danny."

"Whoa!"

He's already walking out the door, into the bright sunshine, ignores Danny's voice and Danny's footsteps until Danny grabs his arm, drags him into an alleyway. Steve shoves him off, opens his mouth to say something but Danny's already yelling. 

"What is with you? What is this, huh? You wanna be here, you don't wanna be here, you can't make up your mind. What is fucking _with_ you? I'm not gonna fuck you for money, there's not gonna be some stupid victory that matters only in your head!"

"I didn't fucking offer!" Steve shouts back. 

"That a point of pride for _you_? You can have anyone you want, you can make anyone pay, but give yourself for free and it's a fucking favour? I don't want you if you don't want to be there!"

"I choose!"

"So do I!" Danny waves his arms around, randomly, not even trying to turn it into gestures. "I don't want sex with you. I want _you_ , Steve, I want to touch you and kiss you and, yes, I want to fuck you, you're hot, I'm a grown man, whatever. I want to see if we can be good together, real good, if we can talk and laugh and spend time together. I don't want to fuck you without that."

"You had no problem fucking me last time."

"Last time I was working under the misapprehension that you thought like a normal person."

"Fuck you, Danny."

Danny rolls his eyes. "Bad choice of words, fine." 

Steve stares at him, breathing hard, feeling utterly drained.

Danny narrows his eyes. "When's the last time you asked for anything that wasn't sex?"

"What?"

"You offered yourself to me. For money, for comfort, what was that? When's the last time someone gave you a hug, Steve? When was the last time? It's not that you think so little of yourself you'd let me fuck you for the meagre contents of my wallet, it's that that's the only terms on which you'll let yourself have it."

He sucks in a breath and it hurts. "Fuck off, Danny, you don't know me."

"What would I see?" Danny drops his hands, looks at him, and Steve wants to hate him, really wants to. "What, Steve? What is it you're so desperate to keep hidden?"

He points his finger in Danny's face. "You don't know me, okay, stay the fuck out of my life."

"Walk away, Steve." Danny spreads his hands, takes a step back. "Go on, walk away."

He hesitates, wants to turn on his heel, something keeping him in place. 

"You know the terms," Danny says softly. "You know what I want. I'm not going to demand, I'm not going to beg, I'm offering. This is it."

He shoves Danny, shoves until Danny backs up, hits the wall, and then he can't push any more. Danny grabs his shirt, and Steve wants to fight him, wants to tear away, but instead he lets Danny pull him in, into Danny's arms and warm embrace. He chokes on it, chokes on everything, buries his face against Danny's neck. 

"Babe," Danny says softly, strokes fingers over Steve's hair. 

\--

Danny's hand is on the small of his back, running over his skin, soft, slow sweeps that make Steve contented and drowsy. The afternoon sunlight is streaming through the light curtains, and his skin is soaking up the warmth. 

"Can I ask you something?" Danny says, hand not stopping. 

"Do I get to say no?" Steve replies, turning his head to look at Danny from one eye. He can see Danny's face twitch. "Sorry."

"You're an ass," Danny informs him. "You can decline to answer, babe."

Steve shifts, cushions his chin on his arm so he can see Danny with both eyes. "What do you want to know?"

Danny's hand stills. "How did you end up hooking?"

Steve shrugs. "That's it?"

"Yeah, that's my question."

"I needed the money." Steve thinks back. "I knew some of the guys were doing it, got some offers; in the end, I needed the money and it's the easiest way to get paid."

"Okay, so..." Danny pulls his hand back, rolls over and sits up, leaning against the headboard. "This may threaten everything we've just, er, established, but--"

Steve doesn't need Danny to say it. "You want me to stop." 

Danny meets his eyes. "Yeah."

"Is it because you're a cop?"

"Seriously?" Danny raises an incredulous eyebrow. "No, it's because I hate the idea that anyone can buy your right to say no."

"What they buy is a yes."

Danny holds up a hand. "We're not going to agree on this. But fine, whatever. There's another thing. I'm fine with you stripping, I don't care, other guys can stare at you, but I don't share. You want to be in my bed, in my life, it's the only bed you're in."

"Your dick is the only dick I put in my mouth?" 

"Ha, very funny. I'll remind you that you have not, in fact, done that."

"Because you wouldn't let me." Steve sits up, stretches, feels Danny's gaze on him. "Like what you see?"

Danny points a finger at him. "Don't distract me."

"I'll blow you right now."

"You will not distract me from this conversation, Steven."

He shifts over, presses a kiss to Danny's chest, licks at his abs. Danny's muscles shift and shiver under his touch, and Danny's hand lands in his hair. Steve kisses his way down, trails his mouth to Danny's hip before Danny tugs him off. 

"I mean it. We have this conversation first."

"Okay, fine." Steve rolls over and rests his head on Danny's stomach. "You'll graciously let me keep my job, but extracurricular activities are not approved of."

Danny pokes him in his side. "If you're trying to piss me off, I'm informing you that it's working, and that I refuse to be that easily pushed around."

Steve rolls his head to look at him. "Sorry, Danny."

"Do you have no opinion about this? About what I just said?"

Steve sits up again, faces Danny. "Okay, look. I get what you're saying. I wouldn't want you with anyone else right now either."

"But?"

"But I'm not kidding when I say I need the money. The summer's coming up and that'll make it easier, but when tourism dies down, yeah, I don't know, it's that or going broke."

Danny nods. "Okay, okay, how about a moratorium on hooking? We'll see how it goes, you tell me if you need the money."

Steve bristles. "I'm not taking money from you, Danny."

"Hey, hey, that's not what I'm saying. Quit jumping to conclusions. I'm saying, don't do this shit behind my back, okay? If you get into trouble, I wanna know, we'll figure it out together."

"Okay." He blows out a breath. "So, does that mean we're dating?"

"Find whatever name you like for it, babe." Danny reaches out, takes Steve's hand and tangles their fingers, and it's an odd feeling. He looks at it. "I want to know about you," Danny says softly. 

Steve frowns. "Know what?"

Danny squeezes his fingers. "What made you like this." 

Steve turns away, leaves his hand in Danny's but doesn't look at him. 

"I get, from what little you've told me," Danny says, his voice low, "that you've been through some pretty tough shit in the last few years. And I'm guessing that it's half the story. So if that fucked you up a bit and made you _you_ , I want to know, babe. So I know when to give you a hug and when to let you do your thing."

"It was hard," he admits. 

"So hard that now, no one chooses for you?" Danny smiles when he looks at him in surprise. "I listen when you talk, Steve."

"I guess."

"Okay." Danny rubs his thumb over the back of Steve's hand. "You have to go to work later?"

"I don't work weekends, Danny, you know that."

"Why is that?" Danny frowns. "Those are the best shifts, you're pretty popular, what's keeping you from doing it?"

Steve bites his lip, tugs his hand back. "I can't."

"What?"

"I _can't_."

Danny looks at him long and hard. "Your shoulder."

"Yes."

"You said--" Danny cuts himself off, seems to be puzzling something out. Steve watches him arrive there, waits for it passively. "How much pain are you in?"

"Depends."

"Right now?"

Steve shrugs. "Not too much."

Danny swears under his breath. 

"It's--" He looks at Danny. "I'm fine. It's something you learn to live with."

Danny sits up, reaches out, and Steve shifts, accommodates him when Danny moves close enough to press a kiss to the scar on his chest. He closes his eyes, rests his head against Danny's, finally pulls back when it's too much. 

\--

He spends the night sleeping in Danny's arms, wakes early, restless and unsure. Danny wakes when he starts moving, eyes only half open as he makes a grab for Steve. 

"Too early."

"Got to--"

"What?" Danny cracks one eye open fully, blinks. "Hey, what?"

Steve makes a gesture. "I've got to go."

That seems to wake Danny up enough. He sits up, scrubs at his eyes, peers at Steve. "Okay, I'm going to not freak out over your stealing away from my bed again in the middle of the night, and assume this is your normal MO. What you need, okay?"

Steve sits on the edge of the bed and looks over his shoulder at Danny. "My MO?"

"Modus operandi," Danny translates primly. "And I'm fine with it, as long as it means you'll come back."

Steve watches him, Danny's hair spread out on the pillow, the soft blue of his gaze. Of all the things about Danny, he knows his eyes the best. "I'll come back," he says, and can't quite hide the hoarseness of his voice. 

"Then go," Danny replies.


	3. Chapter 3

He calls Kono on his way up north, and she's already at the beach, so he joins her there, paddles out to where she's drifting and catching the light, early waves.

"Hey, Steve."

"Hey." He climbs up on his board, sits by her side. "This doesn't look like much."

She glances around. "Nah, but I felt like being out here, you know?"

"Yeah."

"You look like you didn't catch much sleep this week."

"I didn't," he admits.

She squints at him. "That because you're still getting laid with that cop?"

"No." He glances out at the sun climbing up over the skyscrapers. "Well, again."

"Okay, don't hint at a story if you're not sharing, brah." She punches his good arm. "You here to catch waves or have tea with me?"

"Maybe both." He grins at her. "I guess Danny and I are... seeing each other."

"That hard for you to say?" She looks over her shoulder and starts paddling, and Steve joins her, both racing for the same wave.

"Shut up, Kalakaua," he says, but she's leaving him in the dust, already up on her board and soaring. He's smiling as the sound of her cry of victory carries over the water.

\--

Danny calls late on Monday, when he's midway through eating dinner in front of the tv.

"Hey."

"Steve." Danny breathes out slowly.

"Yeah, what's up? You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay." There's something about Danny's voice, something small, that makes Steve sit up. "I was just--"

"Yeah?"

"Can I come over? I know we haven't exactly worked out the boundaries of this thing, but-- I'd really like to see you right now."

Steve gives him the address without thinking about it. "I'm on the tenth floor."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes."

\--

Danny makes it in seventeen, and stands in Steve's doorway, looking angry. "Nine flights of stairs, Steven? How do you live like this?"

"It makes for good exercise," Steve replies, stepping aside to let him in.

"Of course it does." Danny walks past him, looks around the room, says, "Honolulu real estate, huh?"

"It's a place," Steve says, testy.

"Yeah."

"You want a beer?"

"Please." Danny watches him, and Steve looks over his shoulder at him. "Were you eating?"

"Yeah." He hands Danny the bottle. "You want something?"

"No, I'm good. Not hungry. Don't stop on my account, though."

Steve nods, sits, picks his plate back up. Danny takes a seat next to him.

"Were you watching something?"

"Game show. A bad one at that."

"Hmm." Danny snags the remote, flips through a few channels, throws it back down on the table. "Yeah."

Steve finishes his dinner, gets up and puts the plate in the sink. When he turns around, Danny's watching him with tired eyes, still sagged out on the sofa. "Okay, what is with you?"

"With me? Must there be something with me?" Danny raises his eyebrows, pulls out one hand to gesture. "I cannot just sit here without you thinking there's something with me?"

Steve almost opens his mouth to argue and point out that Danny's the one who called him, but closes it again because he realises Danny's spoiling for a fight that has nothing to do with him. "Okay."

Danny's voice hits incredulous. "Okay?"

"Yeah." Steve goes over, sits down, grabs the remote and changes the channel back to the bad quiz show. "There's nothing with you. Okay."

"I hate you," Danny says.

"I know."

After five minutes of terrible television, during which Danny groans repeatedly at stupid answers given by inane candidates, Steve mutes the tv and says, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Danny slants his eyes to him. "No."

"Okay. You want me to blow you instead?"

Danny glares. "If you offer to do that one more time, Steve, I swear--"

"What?"

Danny flaps a hand. "I'm too tired. I'll tell you in the morning."

Steve shifts to face him. "What do you need, Danny?"

"What do I need?" Danny repeats, but it doesn't have his usual fire behind it. He sighs. "I don't know. I need-- I need to not think for a bit. Can I stay here? Tonight, I mean."

"Sure." He's not about to send Danny away like this, even if he's not sure how comfortable he is at having Danny in his space.

"And can we find some terrible, terrible drama show somewhere that I can mock? So I don't have to think some more?"

Steve nods. "Was it bad, Danny?"

"Yeah. You know how it is."

"I do." He reaches out with one arm, hesitates, but Danny gets the gesture, shifts closer and burrows against Steve's side.

"Find me some bad tv," Danny orders, prodding until Steve shifts into whatever position he finds most comfortable.

\--

He digs out a spare toothbrush for Danny at the end of the evening, feels self-conscious as Danny trails after him into the bedroom and the harsh light of the small bathroom.

"You need a shirt to sleep in?"

Danny smiles faintly. "I sleep in my boxers, babe."

"Okay." Steve leaves him in the bathroom, goes back to needlessly straighten the sheets and takes off his watch, putting it on the nightstand.

"Steve."

He looks up to see Danny in the doorway, toothbrush in hand.

"I don't care about your housekeeping habits."

It startles a smile out of him. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Been a while since you had someone up here?" Danny leans in the doorway, his hair caught in the light. He looks tired, but also at home in a way that makes Steve's heart ache in places.

"Yeah," he says again. He scrubs a hand through his hair. "Danny, I... I'm not very good at this."

"You're doing fine," Danny says, wanders back into the bathroom to continue brushing his teeth.

Steve strips his clothes off, pulls on a clean t-shirt, and joins Danny at the sink just as Danny's finishing up. There's a hand on his back, lightly, fingers brushing over cotton. He glances sideways.

"You sleep in a shirt."

"Yeah." He takes the toothbrush out of his mouth. "I get cold easily."

"Okay." Danny presses a kiss to the tattoo on Steve's left arm as it sneaks out from under the sleeve, rubs his five o'clock shadow over Steve's skin.

Steve looks at him in the mirror, watches Danny's face, the tight lines that are not betraying whatever it was that drove him here today. He ducks his head to rinse out his mouth, reaches for a towel, and when he comes back up, Danny's still standing there.

Steve reaches out, cups his face, draws Danny in to kiss him, softly. It's only then that he realises he hasn't kissed Danny yet this evening, that for all the time they spent together, they've barely made out or touched.

Danny makes a sound against his mouth, opens up willingly, and Steve pulls him close. Danny slips a hand under his t-shirt, splays possessive fingers over Steve's skin, and it's good, it's more than good. He backs Danny into the sink, shivering a little when he can feel Danny harden against his thigh, his own erection pressing into Danny's stomach.

"You," Danny says, half-accusing.

Steve makes an inquisitive sound, tries to decide between saying something and kissing Danny again when Danny yanks him down and sticks his tongue in Steve's mouth.

The words are swallowed out of him before he can speak them, and he digs his fingers into Danny's hair, uses his other hand to cup Danny's ass and squeeze. Danny bucks into him, tears his mouth away to gasp for breath. "Should be illegal," he pants, and it takes a moment for Steve to realise he's completing his sentence.

"Shut up," he replies, moving against Danny mindlessly, chasing sparks.

Danny's thrusting against his leg, hands digging into Steve's shoulder and hip. Steve shifts, wraps his good arm around Danny's waist and lifts, and Danny makes a noise of protest but pushes off anyway. He's caught awkwardly between the sink and Steve's body, but Steve's arm is enough to hold him up and it's good, it's better when Danny's cock brushes against Steve's through layers of cotton.

"Jesus fuck," Steve manages, half focussed on keeping hold of Danny, the other on how this feels, the way it's spreading down to his toes. He tucks his face into Danny's neck, bites at the muscle there, and Danny's fingers dig in deeper.

"Steve," he says, voice hoarse, " _Steve_ , come on, god."

"It's okay," Steve replies without thinking, kisses the bite mark, licks it, thrusting thoughtlessly against Danny's body. "It's okay, Danny, I've got you."

Danny comes quietly, with a strangled cry, pressing his face into Steve's shirt as he does. Steve keeps him upright through it, feels the heavy weight he becomes after, needs only a few more thrusts before he weakly follows Danny over.

He lets go of Danny slowly, lets him slide down onto shaking legs, and tugs Danny into his arms, wraps his arms around his waist. Danny shudders against him, stays close for a moment before pulling back.

"I'm gonna need to borrow a pair of boxers," he says with a soft smile, and Steve can't help laughing.

"You got it."

As he turns to head back to the bedroom, Danny snags his wrist, pulls him back and down for a kiss.

\--

They climb into bed together and it's fine, Steve doesn't mind when Danny turns onto his side and tucks his nose against Steve's shoulder, but when he wakes, Danny's spooned up against his back and it's suddenly too much.

He frees himself, slips out from between the sheets and heads for the living room. He snags the comforter off the couch, wraps up in it and sits. He flips through some late night tv, but it's all infomercials and a few straight porn flicks which he doesn't care about, so he turns it off again. Rubbing a hand over his face, he gets up to look out the window. Honolulu never sleeps, lights twinkling up at him from the street.

There's a shuffling noise behind him and he looks over his shoulder to see Danny emerging from the bedroom. His hair is everywhere and he's absently running a hand through it as he blinks into the room.

They regard each other for a moment, and Steve clears his throat. "I--"

"You don't like sleeping in a bed with me." Danny's voice is too sleep-rough to really hit accusatory. "You should have said."

"I--" Steve tries again, and sighs. "I don't know, Danny."

Danny lets himself slouch against the doorway. "I don't mind, Steve. I mean, well, okay, I like sleeping in a bed with you, but this not-dating-thing is also about compromise."

Steve opens his mouth and the words tumble out. "It's like I can't breathe."

"Babe," Danny says softly, and then, "I get how scared you are, and saying that I don't want to take your choices away from you isn't going to fix that--"

"What?" Steve interrupts.

Danny flaps a slow hand at him. "You, with the fear that I'm going to try and force you to do something you don't want."

It nearly cuts him off at the knees, how well Danny knows him, and it makes him think about running, hard and fast, so he can get away from those blue eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Danny asks, in a parody of the previous evening.

Steve shakes his head, sucks in air through his teeth, then realises how high strung he is and forces himself to relax and unclench his jaw.

"Steve," Danny says after a long moment, "do you want me to leave?"

He shakes his head. He tries to get his mouth to work, to form words, but even if he knew what to say, he doesn't trust his voice.

"Okay, the silent routine, not very comforting."

"Sorry." His voice holds, raw as it is, and he turns to face Danny properly. "You can't fix me, okay? I know you think you can, but no one can fix me."

"I'm not trying to fix you." Irritation colours Danny's voice, but it's subdued, as if he's holding back. "I told you this isn't a Disney flick."

He turns back around, leans his hands against the wall as he breathes in deeply, lets the air out again slowly. His shoulder twinges like a poor companion.

"I would take issue with the idea that you need fixing, this requires the premise that you are broken somehow," Danny continues, "but I fear that if I said something like that you would get angry with me, because I know you."

His anger wins. "I _am_ broken! You don't want to hear the truth, but this shoulder is never going to work right. It's done and dusted, can't be fixed, useless, damaged; you're not the one who has to live with it!"

" _Babe_ ," Danny says, strangled.

"Fuck off, Danny. I don't need your pity or your condescending opinions, okay? Leave me alone."

"You think this is pity?" Danny spreads his arms wide. "You think I pity you, Steve? Oh no, my friend. I care about you. I know that's hard to get through that thick shell of yours because like I said before, you are so not ready for any of this. I'm fucking sorry this happened to you, I--"

"You don't get to decide what I'm ready for!"

"I'm not deciding for you! You're the one who leaves our bed, you're the one who wants me to buy your body because it's easier than asking for affection." Steve opens his mouth to reply, but Danny is faster. "No, you don't. I'm talking. They did a number on you, I get it. You won't tell me yet, maybe you never will, but I can guess; being discarded because you are broken, when they're the ones who broke you in the first place, I--"

"Shut up," Steve snaps, "just _shut up_ , Danny."

"What is it, Steve? Is that what I'm not supposed to know? You're in pain every day, god, I--"

Steve flinches, can't help himself, and Danny stops talking. They stare at each other for a few seconds before Steve tries to speak, tries to explain. "Danny, I-- it's not the pain, okay, I can take it, there's good days and bad days."

"It's the rejection," Danny says easily, as if those aren't the words that make Steve burn with anger and humiliation and shame. "They broke you and then they didn't want you any more."

Steve stumbles at the sudden nausea in his gut, pushes past Danny to the bathroom before he can throw up. There's nothing in his stomach; he retches up bile that burns in his mouth.

"Shit, babe." Danny's voice, soft and dark with concern, and then Danny's hand on his shoulder and Steve flinches again. Danny steps away, comes back a moment later with a cup of water, and Steve rinses his mouth, sits back on the floor.

"I'm sorry," Danny says, coming down to sit on the cold tiles. "I'm sorry, Steve, I shouldn't have said that."

He leans his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Maybe you should."

"Steve..."

He runs a hand over his face before looking at Danny. "Did you mean what you said?"

"I mean everything I say. Which bit?"

"That I'm not ready."

Danny thinks for a moment. "Yeah, I meant it. But that's why we're doing this not-dating-thing, because you aren't ready for conventional and maybe you never will be and that's okay. Steve, I don't want something from you you can't or won't give."

"You do." He sighs, reaches out slowly, pretends he's not relieved when Danny takes his hand and strokes a thumb over his skin. "You push, Danny."

"Yeah, okay, I do. But if I stop, Steve, there's nothing left of this."

"I know."

"If you need me to stop... If you need space or whatever, if you don't want me to stay the night... you gotta tell me." Danny squeezes his hand. "You need to tell me what you need."

"I don't know what I need." Steve blows out a frustrated breath. "Danny, I didn't ask for this."

It's a little pathetic to sit here and let Danny hold his hand, when he hasn't needed anyone to hold his hand since he was ten. He tugs it back, and Danny lets go. "Steve, do you want to be with me?"

"Yes." He looks Danny in the eye. "Yes."

"Okay. Then we'll sort the rest out over time, okay?"

He nods, carefully stretches out his legs and gets up off the floor. Danny follows. When they're in the bedroom, Danny says, "Do you want me to go?"

Steve shakes his head. "No, stay for now. Stay."

"Okay." Danny slips into bed with him, but doesn't crowd too close. Steve curls up and closes his eyes.

\--

He wakes next when Danny moves from the bed, and he's confused for a moment, too deep asleep to remember what was going on.

"Ssh," Danny says somewhere near his head, and Steve squints. "I've gotta go to work. Go back to sleep."

He blinks awake properly, rolls over to watch Danny get dressed. Danny buttons up his shirt, tucks his tie around his neck but doesn't knot it.

Steve clears his throat, and Danny looks over. "When can I see you again?"

It makes Danny smile, soft in the early morning light. "Anytime you like, babe."

Steve grins. "Stop by the club tomorrow night. I'm doing a new routine."

Danny's eyes widen.

Belatedly, Steve says, "Unless that's weird for you now?"

Danny shakes his head. "Oh, no, don't worry about that. I'll be there."

"Great."

He watches Danny leave the room and listens to the sound of the door slamming before turning over and going back to sleep.

\--

He helps himself to a cup of coffee and sits in Mamo's office, watching him balance the books and pay invoices until Mamo takes his reading glasses off and folds them away. He takes a sip of his own coffee and regards Steve.

"Something on your mind, Stevie?"

"I guess." He stretches his legs out in front of him and forces himself to meet Mamo's inquiring gaze. "I'm seeing someone."

Mamo studies him for a second, then breaks out into a smile. "Good on you, Steve."

"Yeah." He runs a hand through his hair.

"This the moment you tell me that you're quitting because he doesn't like you doing this job?" Mamo says slowly.

"What? No. Hell no." Steve scuffs his toe into the old linoleum. "There's things he doesn't like, but... Not that. He's cool with me doing this."

"Not everything you're doing, though."

"No." He drinks some coffee, looks at Mamo again. "Truth is, Mamo, I've no idea what the fuck I'm doing."

"Steve." Mamo's hand is on his arm. "I told you before, I don't like it, but they're your choices. I don't tell anyone who works for me what they can and cannot do."

"And I appreciate that."

Mamo squeezes his arm before pulling his hand back. "What's on your mind, Steve?"

"Remember Manuku?"

"That boy you went out with when you were just out of the service? Yes."

Steve sighs, stares at his boots again. "I ever tell you why we broke up?"

Mamo shakes his head, and Steve glances at him. "No, brah."

"He said I was too bitter, too dark. He couldn't hack it. Danny says--" He breaks off, shakes his head. "Danny says I'm scared."

"Danny? Detective Williams?"

"Yeah. Trust me, no one appreciates the irony more than me."

Mamo laughs. "You did always know how to pick 'em."

"Danny has graciously agreed not to mock me." Steve smiles. "I don't want to fuck this up, you know?"

Mamo nods.

"I just..." He scrubs a hand over his face again, drinks some coffee. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing and yeah, okay, maybe Danny scares the fuck out of me."

"Stevie."

He looks up.

"You can't give this boy what you're not ready to give. And if he's the right guy, he'll understand that."

Steve presses his palm into his eyes. "Maybe I'm too fucked up for it all. Too bitter and too scared."

"You don't mean that. Steve, look at me."

He can hold Mamo's gaze until his eyes start filling, and he looks away. "Danny isn't wrong, Mamo. I'm scared, I feel like this is the last chance and if I fuck this up, I only have myself to blame. I want to be with Danny, but when I'm around him, I lose it, it's--"

Mamo reaches out, squeezes his good shoulder. "Steve, give him a chance. Go easy on yourself."

"Yeah." He sucks in a careful breath. "I know, I know, I just--"

"If this guy's right for you, he'll wait."

"Yeah." He tries to feel like he's willing to trust Danny that far, but he knows in his heart he doesn't. He nods nonetheless, reaches for his coffee, swallowing the last few cold sips. "Thanks, Mamo."

"Take it easy," Mamo says, giving him a smile.

\--

He can't help but check out Danny's corner booth, even though he knows Danny won't be in, and wonders what it'll be like to do a new performance with Danny watching him. It makes him shudder, makes his imagination go places, and he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Danny's eyes on him.

It makes him hard, makes him wish Danny was right here, but it's okay that Danny isn't, it's easier. He takes himself in hand, makes it quick and fast, Danny's name on his lips when he spills over his own fingers.

He falls into a dreamless sleep after.

\--

He listens to the sounds of Kai doing a new routine; it's enthusiastically received, from the catcalls and screams, and it makes him smile. When Kai comes off the stage, wad of cash in his hand and a big grin, Steve says, "Guess that went over well?"

"Oh yeah, man." Kai grabs a towel. "You're doing your new act for the second set, right?"

"Yep."

"Good luck out there, brah."

Steve touches his fist to Kai's before straightening up, psyching himself up to give a performance to a crowd that's just been treated to something spectacular, and steps out into the corridor.

It's nothing he hasn't done before, but it does mean he has to work just that bit harder. He treats them to a cocky grin and big moves and gets their attention, and if some are still ordering drinks and drifting to the bar, it's only his first set, and his time will come.

Danny isn't in yet, so it's all good. He comes off stage with a smile.

\--

Mamo stops by the dressing room as Steve's putting makeup on his shoulder. He meets Mamo's eyes in the mirror.

"Hey, you ready?"

Steve nods. "I'm hoping to do you proud."

"You will." It's not the first time Steve's come up with his own routines, but it's a recent development and it makes him nervous. "Your boy's out there, you know this?"

Steve smiles. "I asked him to come."

"As long as you're comfortable with it."

Steve nods, pulls on his shirt. "I am. Thanks, Mamo." Mamo pulls him into a one armed hug for a second, and Steve grins. "Let's see what they make of this, huh?"

"They'll all want a piece of you by the time you're done."

"That's what we're selling," Steve replies, and heads out.

\--

After the first rush of his performance, he spots Danny, blue gaze on him, same place as before. He gives Danny a smile before focussing back on the unfamiliar routine, on the reactions, on seeing which move gets him catcalls and which one gets him gasps.

When he slides onto his knees and across the stage, timing it perfectly to end close to the edge but not too close, there are hands reaching for him from everywhere, and he lets them touch, purposefully doesn't look at Danny during this point. He shimmies out of the way again, back up to his feet, spins from them as he reaches down to whip off his shirt, and oh yes, that gets the crowd going.

The next time he catches Danny's gaze is when he's down to his underwear, and yeah, the look in Danny's eye is unmistakable, coveting and proud with an edge of possessive. Well, it's Danny he intends to go home with at the end of the night, and no one else.

During the last few moments of the act, when he's on all fours and everyone's clustered around the stage, standing room only, he's lost sight of Danny and it doesn't matter. The act's a success, he knows it, knows they're having a good night, hands reaching for him, to touch, to tip, to do both. He slips away from them, gives them the grand finale by shucking his underwear, and slides off stage as if he was never there.

The screams follow him down the corridor.

\--

He rushes through his shower, dresses quickly, and slips back into the club, brought up short by the sight of Cindy behind the bar and Mamo in Danny's corner booth, sitting across from him and talking earnestly.

Cindy gives him a helpless look, swamped by customers, so Steve gives one last look to Danny and Mamo before slipping behind the bar. "How long's he been out there?"

"Since you left the stage. Two cokes, one beer, one vodka," she adds.

"You got it." He pours automatically, takes the next batch of orders, works at it until the rush dies down.

"Go," Cindy says, tapping his arm. "I can handle this."

He nods, goes out to where Danny and Mamo are. "What's going on?"

Danny looks up with a smile. "Hey, babe."

"Hi," Steve replies, focuses back on Mamo. "Cindy could use a hand."

"Ah, yes." Mamo stands slowly. "Nice talking to you, Danny."

"You, too."

Steve slides into the vacated bench and says, "What was that all about?"

"If I knock you up, I better marry you," Danny says deadpan, then grins.

"Haha, very funny." Steve glances at Mamo, back behind the bar. "What did he say to you?"

"We talked about you for a bit. He reminded me that you had friends who loved you."

Steve groans. "Seriously?"

"It's cool, Steve, I'm glad he cares about you." Danny reaches across the table and takes Steve's hand. "You were good up there."

It brings the grin back to Steve's face, the one he's not quite been able to lose. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah." Danny smiles widely. "I enjoyed that, babe, I really did."

Steve can't stop grinning. He uses Danny's hand in his to tug him closer, leans over the table to kiss him. Danny responds enthusiastically, and Steve pulls back before it gets out of hand. "I still have to--"

"I know."

"Can I--" He struggles with the words, trips over his own tongue, and he has to stop talking, feels the blush settling on his cheeks.

"Can you what, Steve?"

Danny's eyes are warm and he's waiting patiently. Steve sucks in some air. "Can I come home with you? After?"

Danny squeezes his hand. "Yeah, babe, you can. You totally can."

\--

It's strange to follow Danny into his apartment, he's not sure what to do with himself, and it feels odd. Danny flicks on the lights and catches sight of him. "What's up, Steve?"

"I'm fine."

Danny runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know you are."

"It's-- Danny--" He falters again. "I'm not good with this, okay?"

"It's quite simple. You wanna fuck?"

He blinks. "Well, yeah, kind of."

"Kind of." Danny shakes his head at that. "Your enthusiasm kills me, babe."

Steve throws up his hands. "I don't know, okay? Yeah, I wanna fuck, why do you think I came home with you? But I don't know if you do; why are you asking me this?"

Danny frowns. "Okay, let me explain. When we have sex, I want you to want it and I assume you want me to want it. In order to figure out if we both want it, we talk about it. Get it?"

"Funny, Danny."

"You think I'm joking? No, my friend." He sighs. "Okay, I want to fuck, too. So we're on the same page."

"Good." Steve scrubs a hand through his hair. "Do we need to talk about it some more, or are we going to do it?"

"You're such a romantic."

"You started this."

"Yeah, because--" Danny sucks in a breath, stops, blows it out. "Okay, so maybe I have hang ups of my own."

"Yeah."

"Hey," Danny says, and his voice is soft now. "I really wanna fuck you again, if you're okay with that."

Steve hangs his head, remembers the last time he let someone do that. "Danny, I--"

"No is okay, Steve."

"Yeah, I know." He wants to ask Danny to erase that touch and it's stupid and fucked up and he's not even sure what he wants.

"Hey, hey." Danny stands in front of him, hand on Steve's arm. "Is this a no?"

He pulls Danny to him, kisses him hard, walks him back until they hit the bed. Danny kisses back, startled and flailing, hand finally settling on Steve's back. When they break apart, Danny opens his mouth to talk, but Steve cuts him off. "It's a yes. Fuck me."

"Okay." Danny looks at him for a moment, surges up and kisses him, then smiles. "Okay. I can do that."

Steve grins, rolls his hips against Danny's, listening to the groan it elicits. "I've been thinking," he says thoughtlessly, "about your hands on me, Danny."

"Oh yeah?" Danny pushes up, rubbing his erection against Steve's thigh. "What else have you been thinking about?"

"You watching me." Steve ducks his head, mouths at Danny's shoulder, fingers searching for shirt buttons.

"Watching you?" Danny settles a hand on Steve's back, fingers probing at his waistband.

"Watching me get off," Steve replies, not raising his head, following the line of Danny's muscles.

"Oh jesus," Danny pants. His other hand lands in Steve's hair and ungraciously tugs him up. Steve lifts his head to look him in the eye. "You're going to be the death of me. We're gonna do that, okay, when you're up for it one day, my god."

Steve smiles, can't help it spread across his face. "You been thinking about me, Danny?"

" _Yes_. Yes, I've been thinking about you, you coy thing, jesus."

Steve puts both hands on either side of Danny's head, pushes up so he can look at him properly. "What have you been thinking about?"

His shoulder doesn't thank him for the strain, but it's worth it for the way Danny's eyes go wide. Then Danny reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind Steve's ear, and he can't help tilting his head. "I've been thinking that maybe I should let you blow me sometime. If you want to."

"I've wanted to." Steve takes the pressure off his shoulder, rolls off Danny onto his side. Danny follows easily. "You know I have."

Danny kisses him. "Yeah, babe, I have hang ups of my own. Also," he points a finger at Steve, and it's hilarious to realise he gestures even during sex, "I totally intend to reciprocate."

"Next time," Steve promises the both of them, and gets his fingers back onto Danny's shirt. "First, nudity."

"That shouldn't be hard for you."

"Oh my god," Steve says with a groan. "Danny." Danny reaches down, cups him through his jeans, and okay, enough with the puns and the waiting. " _Jesus_." He bucks into Danny's hand. "You promised to fuck me; get to it."

"Bossy." But Danny gets with the programme, strips him of his clothes, and Steve returns the favour, gets Danny undressed, and then there is a moment where Danny's taking his own boxers off and Steve looks at him. "What?" Danny says with a frown.

Steve pauses, opens his mouth and lets the words roll out. "I get to have you."

Danny blinks. "Yeah, babe."

Steve kisses him, just explores Danny's mouth, thinks that he should do this more often. He pulls away again, looks at Danny. "Okay, so--"

"Hmm?"

"I know you said you want to see my face."

"I did." Danny reaches out and traces a finger over Steve's mouth, down to his chest and Steve can't help shifting into the touch. "That not what you want?"

"Can we..." Steve rolls over onto his stomach. "Can we fuck like this?"

"Yeah."

Danny leans in, kisses his right shoulder, trails down to inked skin and Steve smiles into it, but he wants more, groans out Danny's name. "Want your fingers."

Danny's hand settles on his ass, and he's fumbling around for a second. Steve turns his head, watches Danny slick his fingers up from the corner of his eye, and it's good, the anticipation making him thrust into the mattress a little. Danny grins at him and Steve ducks his head, presses his face into the pillow to laugh, laugh because he's happy.

Danny's fingers pushing into him makes him pull back, gasp for breath because it's good but a bit cold and for a single second, he remembers the backroom at the club and Brad's fingers and Brad's voice and he wants Danny to stop.

Danny's already pulling his fingers out before Steve can say something, runs his clean hand over Steve's skin. "Hey."

He turn onto his side, swallows hard. "Sorry."

"You, uh, you clenched up on me there."

"Yeah." He scrubs a hand over his face. "I--" He doesn't know what to say for a second. He's embarrassed enough to discover he just lost his erection as well, and that's just great. "Sorry."

Danny's hand stays on his side. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He blows out a breath. "So--"

"If you apologise one more time I'm gonna wring your neck," Danny snaps. "It happens, okay? What do you need?"

Danny's anger makes him smile, makes something swell in his chest. He sits up, reaches for Danny, pulls him into a kiss. "Start again?"

"Sure."

He reaches down and palms himself, and it feels good, feels even better when Danny's hand joins his. He pulls away, rolls onto his stomach again.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, babe."

Danny slicks his fingers up again, and this time it's easier. Steve bites his lip, says, "Talk to me," and Danny stills for a second before adding a third finger.

"Talk," Danny says, and then, "You're gorgeous, babe, my god."

"Yeah? You wanna fuck me?"

"Oh yes." Danny scissors his fingers, and Steve shifts, feels the stretch and burn all the way to his toes. "When I see you on stage, you're so alive. You don't sell a fantasy, you let them have a piece of you for a few minutes, and they know it."

His mind stutters at Danny's words, tries to wrap around the words. Danny's fingers inside of him, Danny's words in his ears, and he tries to imagine what Danny sees.

Danny's voice goes hoarse as he continues talking. "That I can have you, Steve, you've no idea how precious that is." He bucks when Danny fingers his prostate, groans out loud. Danny chuckles, says, "Think you're ready?"

"Yeah."

"Pull up a leg for me." Danny taps his thigh, and Steve jerks, can't help himself, but shifts to pull his knee up under him. He feels Danny's touch, on his back, on his ass, dipping between his cheeks to slip inside and stretch him. Danny's pushing in a second later, holding him open, and it makes him groan, just the thought of it, the thought of what Danny's seeing.

"Oh yeah," Danny says, breathless, pushing in steadily, short thrusts that press Steve into the mattress. He gasps for air as Danny picks up the pace, feels himself stretch to accommodate him, and it's good, it's sparks down his spine.

He reaches out with one hand, and Danny's settles over his, their fingers linked.

"Steve," Danny whispers, "Steve, god." He stutters to a halt, comes hard, pressed deep inside, and for a moment, Steve wants him to stay there. Danny pulls out as he's softening, and Steve rolls onto his side, stretches out his stiff legs. He starts a little when Danny spoons up against his back, hand on Steve's side. "Babe?"

He turns his head to kiss Danny, soft and easy, takes Danny's hand and guides it down to his cock, and Danny says softly, "Like this?"

"Uh huh." He closes his eyes when Danny touches him, sure grip with a twist at the end, designed to get him off and it's working, he chases the feeling, chases it until he goes over. He stays still as Danny shifts, wipes at him with tissues before coming back, and tugs blankets over them both.

By the time he's done, Steve's fast asleep.

\--

He wakes chasing adrenaline, the memory of his shoulder being blown apart, the taste of sand in his mouth, the scent of blood in the air. He lies still for a few seconds, heart hammering in his chest, sheets sticking to his body with sweat.

He peels them away slowly and his adrenaline spikes again; not his sheets, not his flat, _Danny's_. He sits up, swings his legs over the side, sucks in a few gulps of air.

Danny shifts behind him, wakes slowly, makes an inquisitive noise and Steve tries not to start at the first touch to his skin. "Steve?"

"Yeah."

Danny clicks on the light, making him flinch again, and he glances over his shoulder.

"You got to go?"

He nods. If he were home, he'd go out for a run, work the adrenaline out of his system, and he wonders if he could run all the way home. It's longer than what he usually runs, but he thinks his legs and shoulder will hold, even on this little sleep, even on shoes not meant for running.

Danny sits up, reaches out to turn Steve's head back to face him, and leans in for a soft kiss. "Go," he says.

Steve kisses him back, then gets up and gets dressed. He slips out the door, the image of Danny, stretched out and watching him following him as he starts his run home.

\--

He has blisters on his feet when he peels himself out of his clothes at home, steps into the shower and tilts his face up to the spray. It's easy to close his eyes, easy to let the exhaustion of a half slept night wash over him alongside the warm water.

It stings, but it's good, makes him feel alive. He gets out before the water can run cold, dries off and heads back to bed, curls up around a pillow and closes his eyes.

\--

Greg makes pleased noises at him when Steve's stretched out on the table. "You're actually following my advice for a change," he says.

"I try," Steve replies.

Greg taps his arm. "Relax for me, Steve. I know it's painful, but you gotta try."

He stops himself from nodding, says, "Yes," and consciously relaxes his arm. It's familiar, breathing through the pain, letting the kinks get worked out.

It's also a reminder he doesn't always want to have, and when he's done, sorting out a new appointment, Greg says, "Keep doing what you're doing, Steve. You'll thank yourself for it."

"Yeah." He notes the new date in his phone and shakes Greg's hand. "Thanks, see you next time."

"You, too."

\--

At home, he's restless, unable to decide what he wants. His legs and feet haven't thanked him for the seven mile run from Danny's place in the middle of the night, and his shoulder, newly treated, is sore in the familiar post-treatment way.

He lies on his back and stares at the ceiling, thinks about what he wants and what he would like, and when he pushes himself, reaches for the phone, he tries not to hang up, not to stop himself.

"Hey, babe."

Danny's voice is cheerful, light, happy to hear from him. "Hey."

"What's up?"

"I..." The ceiling is still the same, flaking paint and a crack running from one corner. "You busy tonight?"

"No." There's a pause, then Danny adds, "You wanna hang out?"

Steve laughs. "Yeah, Danny. I don't know."

"Which is it, babe?"

He runs a hand over his face, sighs. "I'm maybe not the best company you could want tonight."

"Okay," Danny says slowly. "Do you want me around?"

"I guess."

"You really have to work on your enthusiasm."

Steve sits up. "Fuck you, Danny, I don't need this shit, okay? Go dick with someone else's head." He hangs up the phone before he can change his mind, thinks about petulantly throwing it across the room and reminds himself he can't afford a new one. He can't afford many things right now because Danny doesn't want him hooking.

Yeah, okay, so that's not a real hardship to give up. " _Fuck_ ," he says out loud, and then starts when the phone rings. He picks it up. "Look, Danny--"

"Hey, don't take a tone with me, hot shot."

Okay, so Danny's angry. Fine. "I don't need you--"

"Quiet!" Danny snaps. "I appreciate you have issues and we both do, so hey, no special score there. But hang on a second. When you give me mixed signals, I want to know what's going on. I've told you, I'm not going to make choices for you, which means you need to _fucking tell me_ what it is you want."

"That it?" Steve says testily.

"Yeah. You may talk now."

Steve has nothing to say for a second. He grasps for words, finally says, "Look, I'm here, I'm staring at the ceiling, I've got nothing better to do."

"That your way of saying you'd like me to come alleviate your boredom?"

Steve lets out a frustrated sigh. "Maybe I'd like to spend some time with you that's not in bed."

"Maybe you do." Danny clears his throat. "Look, prying things out of you with a paperclip, I get it, I know you, okay? I'll come over, give me a couple of hours."

"Danny... Okay, I'll see you."

"Yeah." Danny hangs up before Steve can say more, and then he just drags himself up and to the kitchen to clean up and make dinner.

\--

When Danny knocks on the door, he's managed to scramble a dinner together out of the contents of his kitchen, and Danny smiles as he walks in.

"You cooked," he says.

"Yeah." Steve raises his eyebrows. "That a surprise?"

"Let's just say I don't cook."

"Take out?"

"Yeah." Danny peeks over his shoulder. "Pasta. Nice."

"We're eating on the couch," Steve says, handing him a plate and utensils, "because I don't have a dinner table."

"No great loss." Danny follows him, takes a seat, doesn't object when Steve clicks the tv on and settles on a quiz show.

After a few minutes, Danny points at the screen with his fork. "You like this shit?"

Steve glances sideways. "Let me guess, you don't?"

"It makes me despair for the intelligence of humanity," Danny replies. "But hey, if it's your thing, knock 'em dead."

Steve shrugs, finishes his food, tries not to give in to the tension swirling under his skin. It's not having Danny in his space, he's made a conscious decision this time to invite him over, it's something else, something he can't quite place. He collects the plates and puts them in the sink, and when he turns around, Danny's sitting on the couch, comfortably settled, legs crossed and a mild smile on his face, watching Steve.

"What?"

Danny gestures. "Carry on."

"Danny, seriously, I'm not in the mood."

"For what?" Danny says mildly.

Steve bristles. "For any of this. For whatever it is that's in your head, okay?"

"There's nothing in my head." Danny looks at him. "There's something in yours, though."

"I don't--" He stops, sucks in a breath. "Look, I just-- I'm not the person you want to be around tonight, I guess."

Danny leans forward, puts his elbows on his knees. "You want to be alone?"

"No." He scrubs a hand through his hair. "Danny, I'm not... Look, the last guy I was with, he left me because he couldn't be around me, okay? I don't want you to--" He can't finish the sentence, realises how invested he already is and feels a spike of fear in his gut.

"Steve, I'm not leaving. I can't guarantee I'll never leave, because hey, that's life, but I'm here."

He nods.

"Here's the thing. I wanna do for you whatever you need right now, but you gotta tell me because I'm not a mind reader. You called me because you wanted me here, and you're not in a good mood right now, okay, I will take that, I was here just last week for the same reason."

He tries a smile. "I know."

"So we can fuck, I can give you a hug, we can cuddle, we can watch stupid tv, don't give me that face, I'm giving you options here."

Steve can't help laughing. "Cuddle, Danny?"

"I will have you know," Danny says with a pointed finger, "my daughter tells me I have the power of excellent restorative cuddles."

"Something tells me that if we cuddle--" Steve tries not to wince at the word "--we'll end up fucking."

"Yeah, well, you're a very attractive person." Danny shrugs. "You've got to tell me what's in your head, Steve."

He nods again, shores up his courage, looks away to stare at his boots. "I went to see my physio." He can sense Danny move, but he doesn't look up. "It's fine, I do it every week, I--"

Danny's in front of him, finger under his chin and Steve jerks his head back, but he meets Danny's eyes anyway.

"It hurts, okay? It's nothing I can't handle but I didn't want to spend the rest of the day _feeling_ it. I'm not a coward, Danny, I can take it, when I got shot it was far worse, I..." He trails off. "I'd let you fuck me because it's something, but I'm guessing you'll kill me first."

"Yeah." Danny's voice is a low growl. "One day, I will make you understand why."

Steve thinks uncomfortably back to Brad. "I think I already do."

"Hmm." Danny squints at him. "I choose to take that statement at face value for now, and we will revisit it later."

"Yeah." If this goes on long enough, he will tell Danny, but he isn't up to handling Danny's anger right now.

Danny says softly, "Babe, do you trust me? It's okay if the answer's no."

The question hurts, but he forces himself to answer. "I don't trust you. I want to, Danny, I--" He reaches out to take Danny's hand in his. "I can't, I want to, but I can't."

"Is there anyone you trust?"

He thinks. "I trust Mamo, I guess."

"That's something." Danny smiles. "Is it easier to trust me with your body?"

Steve thinks on that one, too. "No. But I thought it was."

"That what last night was about?"

"Danny, I--" He shakes his head. "Look, stuff happened, that happened... I wanted you, the whole time, I just couldn't let myself. It was easier if it wasn't about me, but about sex."

"Thirty-two fucking dollars."

"You still pissed about that?"

Danny squeezes his hand. "Yeah. I get it, but I don't like it. And I kind of want to know, you ever do something that stupid for real?"

He looks at their joined hands. "Not that stupid."

"You don't wanna tell me, it's okay."

"You'll be pissed. And I can't deal with your anger, Danny, not today."

Danny sighs. "I'll resist saying something, then."

"I'll tell you. Six months from now, if you're still here, you come back, you ask me about it. I'll tell you, Danny."

"Deal." Danny reaches up, runs a thumb over Steve's stubble, and he twitches at it. "And I promise you, I'm going to be here six months from now."

Steve kisses him at that, presses his face into Danny's hair.

"Something tells me," Danny says slowly, "you're kind of up for the cuddling aspect of the evening."

Steve feels himself flush, replies, "Maybe," hedging his bets.

"Come on." Danny tugs on his arm, and Steve follows, lets Danny lead him to the bedroom. "The clue of adult cuddling-- do not give me that snigger, Steven-- is that it happens in a bed, where we will be comfortable, but it doesn't have to go anywhere. No pressure. Nudity allowed, but optional."

"I'm not twelve, Danny."

"Au contraire, my friend." Steve raises both eyebrows at him, but Danny is not deterred. "Shoes are not optional. Off."

He sits down to unlace his boots, and when he looks up, Danny is already stretched out, half sitting up, smiling at him. He joins him, leans in to kiss Danny, feels himself get pulled in closer and arranged to Danny's satisfaction. "Stop being so bossy in bed."

Danny stares, mouth slightly open. He pulls his hand back, then pokes Steve in the chest. "You are too big, you overgrown lug. What's a guy to do?"

"I'm too big?" Steve promptly rolls on top of Danny, looks down at him. "What, you can't handle me now?"

"Oh, I can _handle_ you."

Danny's hands land on his ass, and Steve bucks forward, into him without thinking about it. "I thought this was cuddling, not sex."

"That was before you climbed me, you outsized--" Steve cuts whatever insult was about to come out of Danny's mouth off with a kiss. and when they come apart, Danny says, "It can still be cuddling, babe, if you don't want--"

Steve presses his half-hard erection into Danny's thigh. "I want." Then adds, "If you want."

"Yeah," Danny says.

"God, Danny, can I finally blow you?"

"Yes. Yes, Steven, yes, you totally can." There are complicated hand gestures that Steve assumes amount to an invitation, and he sits up to unbutton Danny's shirt, to trace his hands over compact muscle.

When he lowers his mouth to Danny's chest, Danny reaches down to tug up his t-shirt, and he gets tangled for a second, makes an ungraceful sound as he tries to free himself. Danny's hands hold him still before Danny peels him out of the t-shirt, and then he says sheepishly, "Sorry."

"Yeah." But Steve can't help grinning at him. Danny settles his hands on his hips and he likes that, likes to feel Danny's fingers on his skin. It's almost a loss when he has to shimmy out of Danny's grasp to bend down and kiss Danny's chest, mouth trailing till he finds a nipple, then he sucks softly and Danny groans, hand landing in Steve's hair. He lifts his head. "You like?"

"Yeah, babe. That was a good sound. More is better."

Steve takes the hint, crosses over to other side, repeats his actions. He continues his journey south, all the time in the world to explore Danny's skin, hairs tickling his lips and he licks at the ridges of Danny's abs. When he gets to Danny's waistband, he unbuttons him slowly, pulls down the zipper and mouths at Danny's erection through his underwear.

"First time you did that," Danny says above him, voice rough, "you looked so out of it, babe, you've no idea, your face..."

He frowns, looks up to meet Danny's eyes, dark and burning. "When--?"

"First time you came home with me," Danny says. "I took my pants off and you, well."

He remembers, remembers going to his knees because he wanted nothing more than to taste Danny, to touch. He can't suppress the shudder, presses his face against Danny's hip, noses at his erection. Danny's fingers card through his hair and Steve considers just staying here, right here, for a few minutes. Danny lets him, and when he gets back to the task at hand, mouthing at Danny's boxers until they're damp, Danny keeps his hand in his hair.

He regretfully pulls out of Danny's grasp and sits up. "I need to-- Stay here."

Danny frowns in confusion, but Steve's already backing out of the room, looking for his bag. He hasn't needed the condoms in a while but he knows there's some in there, and he finds them in short order in the pocket they've always lived in. He heads back to the bedroom, to find Danny on the bed, shirt and pants open, looking utterly, utterly gorgeous and he swallows, stops short.

"I needed..." He holds up the packet. "Nothing in here."

Danny's face breaks into a smile and he nods. "Get back here, babe."

Steve scrambles back onto the bed, unable to keep the grin from his face, and then he carefully lifts Danny's damp underwear from his hard cock. He tears open the condom packet and smoothes the latex down over him, making Danny buck into his hand. "Easy, baby."

Danny raises both eyebrow at him and says, "Say that again."

"What?" Steve tries to shake the buzzing from his brain and colours when he realises what he just said. "Um..."

Danny smiles, sits up enough to reach out and thumb the corner of Steve's mouth. He sucks the digit in, curls his tongue around it, carefully holds it between his teeth, and Danny makes a strangled noise. "How are you not illegal?"

Steve smiles as he lets Danny's thumb slip from his mouth and puts a hand on Danny's stomach, pushing him back down. Danny follows his cues, and Steve settles back in, fits his mouth over Danny's dick and slides down slowly.

"God," Danny says, voice barely above a whisper, "you."

He listens to the sounds he wrings from Danny's mouth, loses himself in the feeling of Danny on his tongue, the small thrusts that Danny can't seem to stop, pulls back and slides down again, hums under his breath. Danny thrusts up unexpectedly and Steve pulls back, fits his good arm over Danny's hips and takes him back in.

"Babe," Danny says above him, breathing hard, in shallow gasps that signal how close he is, and Steve feels him swell and twitch and takes him in deeper, swallows around him, and he feels Danny come, one last aborted thrust as he shudders.

Steve rests his head against Danny's hip, ignoring the zipper that digs into his cheek until Danny tugs at him. "Up, up, get up here."

He follows Danny's lead, lets Danny kiss him, kisses back, lets his own hand drift down to where his cock is still trapped in his jeans.

Danny slaps at his hand. "No, no, what, that's mine, you, stop it."

"Have to," Steve murmurs, "Danny, come on."

"You desperate, babe?" Danny pushes him back, and Steve rolls over, blinks at him. Danny unzips him, says, "You bring two of those things?"

Steve blinks before he realises what Danny's talking about, then groans and throws his arm over his eyes.

"Where do you keep them? I'll be right back."

Steve whines, grabs at Danny's arm, tries to pull him back but Danny's not having it. "Bag in the living room, side pocket."

Danny slips out and Steve can't help himself, reaches down to give himself a quick tug. It feels good, but not good enough, and when Danny comes back in, he realises how hard he's breathing, how much he wants this, Danny, right now. He tries to say Danny's name but there's no air in his chest.

"Hey, hey, no touching." Danny pulls his hand away by the wrist, says, "Let me take care of you," and a moment later, he's sliding a condom down and his mouth follows.

Steve bucks up, tries not to, Danny pulls back, coughing. "S-sorry."

"Warn a guy," Danny grumbles, but he's smiling, hands settling on Steve's hips to hold him down and he should feel trapped, should feel a lot of things but instead he's soaring at the feeling of Danny's fingers on his skin, Danny's mouth on his dick.

It doesn't take long before he comes with a shudder, Danny's hands relaxing as he works him through it, then disposes of the condom. He's still catching his breath when Danny's pulling his pants and boxers off completely, and Steve cracks open one eye to watch Danny take his own clothes off as well.

Danny crawls back onto the bed next to him, takes the covers with him. He settles on his side, watching Steve, and Steve leans in, kisses him softly. Danny tastes like latex and lube, and like Danny, and he wonders suddenly what it would be like to taste himself in Danny's mouth.

Danny pulls him in closer, tangles a leg with Steve's. "What?"

"I was thinking," Steve says, and then pauses and adds, "if you're okay with it, which you don't have to be..."

"Disclaimer accepted; no an option." Danny kisses his nose. "What, babe?"

"Maybe we should get tested. I'm not saying anything has to happen after, just... maybe I'd like that."

"Yeah?" Danny reaches up to brush Steve's hair away from his forehead and it's a strange sensation, makes him close his eyes. "Okay, babe, I'm cool with that."

He looks at Danny, at the smile on his face, the blue of his eyes, the way his hair is losing its fight with gravity. It makes him smile back, tentatively feel like it's okay to be here, for now.

"You goof," Danny says, "come here." And Danny pulls him in, tucks him against Danny's shoulder, and he sighs, settles there where it's dark and warm, and Danny's hand is stroking his hair. "This okay for you, Steve?"

"Yeah." He breathes out, feels Danny's skin twitch, follows it up with an errant kiss. "I'm good."

"Okay," Danny replies, and then adds, "Tell me when you need me to go, yeah?"

It releases something clenched in his chest, something small and worried, and he slips an arm around Danny's waist. "Sure thing, Danny."

\--  
 _finis_.


End file.
